


Baby All I Want For Christmas Is You

by thedeadflag



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Charity Auctions, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9009205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: Anya bidding on Clarke in their school's charity auction initially has Clarke confused and aggravated, but when all the girl asks for is a favor to help her come out on Christmas Eve, she finds it difficult to say no, even if they're not on good terms to say the leastAfter all, 2016's been terrible...how much worse could it get?





	

It was going to be miserable, of that Clarke was entirely certain.

And yet, as she waited in the wings while another student's council rep was auctioned off for a date, she couldn't help but be filled with dread at the possibilities that fate might lead her to.

Finn had literally told her leading up to the auction that he'd be emptying as much as he could to get a date with her and show her he'd changed, that he only wanted _her_ , and not the girl from across town he'd cheated on her with.

And then there was Bellamy Blake, her friend Octavia's creepy older brother, who had been trying to get Clarke to date him for two years. He was an overaged senior, while she was a regular senior, and while one year wasn't much, it added onto the reasons for her to be wary, especially with his possessive, controlling tendencies.

Clarke shook her head, knowing none of this would be necessary if the school hadn't splurged half of its annual event funding on the Homecoming game's festivities, only to realize that they'd crunched the numbers wrong and barely had a penny left over for regular spirit day functions, and had bankrupted their prom.

Thus, the auction. All the major sports stars, all the students council representatives, the head cheerleader, even the slightly popular local band's members were tossed into the fray to try and raise enough money. Winning bids would get a date, and if someone raised above a certain threshold for their bracket, they'd also lock in a date to the Valentine's Day semi-formal.

Which meant if Finn and Bellamy started a bidding war on her, she could be looking at two soul-destroying dates instead of just one.

"And that's ninety dollars for Niylah! Everyone give her and the winning bidder a round of applause!" Monty Green announced with a grin, clearly happy that the auction had been so popular. Costia Moraes alone had raked in over four hundred dollars after a bidding war between Lexa Woods and Ontari Winters. As the student activities rep who'd had his funding stolen out from under him by the sports department, she could understand the enthusiasm from the auction.

"Next up, we have a creative and talented beauty who is just as likely to be elbows deep in a new painting as she is to be on the soccer pitch. You know her as your Arcadia High girl's varsity soccer Captain and student council Vice President, let's hear it for Clarke Griffin!" Monty cheered, giving her a veritable neon sign to get up on stage.

They'd all been asked to dress formally, so she'd just tossed on last year's prom dress, but while it was stunning on her and really flattered every curve, it was kind of hell to walk in. With slow, deliberate steps, she made her way from the wings, up the stairs, and onto the stage, offering the crowd a smile and a wave as she fought back her fear of the next few minutes.

Still, she had a duty to her friends and her school, so she kept her cool and leaned towards the mic, maybe flashing a little extra cleavage in the process. "Why don't we do away with the early bird piddly numbers and start this off at fifty?"

"Do I hear a fifty?" Monty called out, and as predicted, Finn's arm shot up immediately, followed swiftly by Bellamy.

Clarke swallowed hard as the duo kept one-upping each other, even if she did start to feel some relief when their competition slowed around the two-twenty mark, eighty dollars shy of her threshold.

"Do I hear two-hundred thirty? Two-hundred thirty?" Monty called out when Bellamy balked, staring Finn down but making no move to raise his paddle again. "Going once...twice..."

Clarke braced herself mentally for what would probably be an atrocious Saturday night date when Monty startled her out of her depressed stupor. "Two-hundred and thirty to bidder twenty-eight! Do I hear two-hundred and forty?"

Honestly, Clarke had to squint after she'd mentally shaken away her shock, because bidder twenty-eight was way off in the far corner, where it wasn't lit very well. She was surprised Monty even saw the person at all, given everyone else was up close.

 _Great...a stalker and a serial killer...just my luck..._ Clarke mused woefully as Finn lifted his paddle again, only to be immediately outdone by the bidder off in the corner.

She could see the frustration on Finn's face as he looked over his shoulder as his competition. The whole thing had Clarke feeling like a big slab of meat being auctioned off to wolves, but maybe it was a little nice to see him squirm.

"Three hundred!" Finn yelled out, stunning Monty for a moment from the slightly audible sputtering into the mic. The outburst wasn't entirely unheard of, Lexa having done it twice, and a few others having tossed out higher bids of their own volition instead of jumping by ten dollar increments. Still, a fifty dollar jump to meet the threshold price for her was a bit of a shock.

Finn's outburst had silenced the crowd for a second, maybe two, but it was enough to hear a sigh from across the auditorium.

"Four-hundred and fifty."

Clarke froze at the sound of the voice, ice crystallizing in her veins and daring her to break from even the slightest movement, because there was no way that Anya Pine, the taskmaster of the cheerleading troupe herself, had bid on her. Let alone tossed an extra hundred and fifty dollars to try and shut Finn up and get it over with.

Maybe if it had been Lexa up on the podium, or Gina, but not her. _Never_ her.

Not since she'd accidentally spilled a large bucket of this sickly swamp-green paint on the girl ten minutes before last year's Homecoming game celebration, forcing her from the opening ceremonies and from being at the sidelines until the second quarter had started.

Anya had been pegged to be the head cheerleader until the accident, propelling Luna Bridgewater from Anya's second into the Captain's position, and the girl hadn't given it up since, largely spending practices on the sidelines with the coach talking about Vampire Diaries while Anya personally ran the rest of the squad through drills and formations alone.

"Four, uh, hundred and sixty?" Finn called out, hesitantly lifting his paddle again, earning a surprised nod from Monty.

"Four-hundred and sixty to bidder eleven. Do I have a..."

"Six hundred." Anya called out lazily, sounding entirely bored, interrupting Monty mid-proposal. Clarke wasn't sure whether she'd gasped, or the crowd, because she was pretty sure no one understood what was going on at that point.

Hell, Clarke wasn't entirely sure she wasn't just hallucinating.

"What the fuck?!" Finn yelled, turning partway in his seat to shoot a glare in the cheerleader's direction. "Are you _kidding_ me?!"

"Are you saying she's not worth at least that? Lift your paddle or quiet down, Collins." Anya's calm, smooth voice carried quietly through the auditorium, making it clear the other girl didn't care to raise her voice over the commotion.

"Going once..." Monty started, and Clarke could only imagine he was staring right at Finn because she couldn't tear her eyes away from that dark corner. She wasn't sure there was a word to describe how she felt. "Twice..."

 _Mystified? Befuddled? Hell if I know what the heck is going on..._ Clarke thought to herself as Monty's gavel slammed down.

"Six-hundred dollars to bidder twenty-eight! Congratulations, you've definitely brought out your school spirit tonight! Our fundraiser is now over halfway to our goal!" Monty continued, his words prompting a decent applause from the crowd, most of whom were just happy to know that they'd probably be more likely to have some sort of prom at the end of the year with the way the night had been going.

Clarke, as she whisked herself offstage to make way for Octavia, could only wonder what horror of horrors awaited her. There was no way she could back out on a six hundred dollar bid for the school, after all. Her people needed that prom.

Without any reason to stick around the auditorium until everything was over, Clarke headed out of the dressing room area and into the hallway, heels clacking on tile as she made her way to a nearby bench built into the hallway wall. In freshman year, she used to sit there with her sketchbook, drawing passersby and whatever else popped into her head.

Simpler times, really. Less risk of putting herself in mortal danger for the school's benefit, because she wasn't sure her initial assessment of her bidder being a serial killer was too far off the mark, given Anya's disdain for her.

Maybe it wasn't entirely surprising that she'd barely been sitting for five minutes when she heard a door quietly shut, followed by footsteps heading down the hall in her direction. Wells had surely seen what happened. Raven had definitely seen it. Finn and Bellamy had obviously been involved in it, and she could imagine them trying to find her, to talk to her.

Instead, she saw the standard school colours; red, copper and black intruding on her vision, the swishing pleats of the cheerleader's skirt stealing her focus for a half second as her brain parsed exactly who it was.

Clarke sat facing straight ahead as Anya took a seat beside her, the previously soothing quiet morphing into a deafening, suffocating silence that only made the tightness of her corseted bustier even more regrettable.

She wasn't sure how long it'd been when she heard the slightest of annoyed sighs from the cheerleader, too focused counting her breaths and trying to take in as much oxygen as quietly as possible.

"You clean up nicely." Anya murmured quietly, voice sounding strained. Probably from the pain of being polite and giving a compliment to someone like her. Still, despite the clear forced effort, it still had something small fluttering around in her chest. Clarke blamed her tinier, younger self for ever having a crush on the girl. "It's always interesting to see you without paint on your hands or in your hair."

 _And there we are...back to the familiar insults..._ Clarke mused, feeling a little relief at the return to the status quo, even if it did hurt a bit that Anya thought she was a slob.

"And yet you want these grubby hands all to yourself, so I must be doing _something_ right." Clarke shot back, her sense of self-preservation not quite catching up with her tongue.

"Don't be so _vulgar_ , Clarke. But...I suppose yes, I want...no, _need_...your assistance in the coming days." Anya's words came out a little stiff, stilted, and the strange pink tint to her cheeks was noticeable even in Clarke's peripheral vision.

Still, Anya had her attention, and maybe she just wanted a better look at Anya blushing from embarrassment. "The auction was for a _date_ , Anya."

"And it will be." Anya blurted quickly, eyes fluttering shut as she took one steadying breath, and then another. "This is not easy for me, but I find myself in a situation I cannot live with anymore. Enlisting your help would at least give me the answers I need."

Honestly, Clarke's body was buzzing with tension, and she was far too on edge to handle any vagueness, and maybe her mouth got out in front of her filter again. Just maybe. "You have plenty of friends, Anya, I'm sure you could enlist some of them for whatever this is. No need to drag me into some personal quibble."

"You don't...this isn't _easy_ for me, Clarke." Anya let out lowly, slumping forward and resting a hand on her forehead.

"You weren't the one paraded up on a stage like a slab of meat, trying not to worry about the fact that my suitors included a man that's halfway obsessed with me, an ex who's practically been stalking me, and a girl that loathes my very existence. I think I've got the 'difficult situation award' down pa..." Clarke started, only just having dipped a toe into her rant when Anya sprung up from the bench and walked over to the opposite wall, pressing her palms to it. Clarke wasn't sure if she was seeing things, but she swore she could see the girl's knees trembling ever so slightly. "Anya?"

"None of the girls I'm friends with like...none of them like other _girls_. Only Lexa, but she's been dating Costia for years, and my parents are at least aware of that much." Anya spoke, voice quiet, almost a whisper, but in the empty halls, with all the tile and wood, it was impossible not to hear.

It was impossible not to understand what Anya was asking.

"Anya...I, uh..." Clarke found herself speaking, not entirely certain where she was going with the train of thought, her mind jumping from questions over why Anya was speaking like that, whether it was a date or not, whether Anya liked her or not, what Anya's lips might feel like, what Anya might sound like with...well. Thankfully, Anya turned around, arms crossing her chest, head ducked low and facing the ground; the sheer sight of the girl's dejected state cut off her train of thought and saved her from impure thoughts she'd be better off forgetting.

"I've been trying to find a way. And then this...this _auction_ comes along, and you're out already, and you're single, and my parents know about you...our fathers work together, they wouldn't be _rude_ to you, they wouldn't h..." Anya's words were coming quick and sharp, as if Clarke actually needed some explanation, some background. As if she needed anyone to explain why they might want someone more experienced to help them come out to their family, even someone as hostile as Anya. "Anyways, two birds with one stone. I solve my problem, and I throw money at the prom fund. But...I'd understand if you aren't comfortable and it's too much for you. I won't pull my donation even if you say no."

Clarke recoiled a bit at hearing that, knowing six hundred dollars wasn't exactly easy money to come across. She could get pizza once a week for a year with that kind of money. "That's oddly generous of you."

"Not generosity. Just honour and understanding. Even if we're not on good terms, what I'm asking isn't standard date fare. It's much more...demanding." Anya pressed, which Clarke understood, even if it wasn't a huge deal.

"So we hang out at your place and act like a couple in front of your parents for a bit. Maybe I hold your hand when you come out to them. Not rocket science." Clarke countered, not seeing the huge issue of the situation at all. Sure there was the coming out, and that'd be anyone's guess, but Anya was right. She knew the girl's parents were sticklers for manners and etiquette, and wouldn't be mean or impolite in her presence, so it wasn't like there was some big danger lurking. If there'd be fallout, it'd be after she'll have left.

"The only days my parents have off from work until late January are Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I would never ask for you to spend Christmas _Day_ with me..."

"But you're telling me you need me on Christmas fucking Eve." Clarke blurted out, halfway stunned at the gall, but as her mind caught up, now it made sense. A date was one thing. Spending a holiday with a date and her family? A whole 'nother bag. "You need _me_ to spend Christmas Eve with _you_."

Anya's head slowly lifted, those usually sharp dark eyes seeming much softer under the harsh fluorescent light for whatever reason. "I do. I apologize."

Clarke had half a mind to take Anya's offer and just walk, but her stomach twisted at the mere thought of leaving Anya hanging like that. She knew how big that kind of moment could be. She knew how stressful it was, and how it could tear a person up inside. Anya had found hope in the auction, even if it involved someone she clearly hated. She couldn't just tear that hope away.

Especially since Anya, for once in her life, actually apologized to her, even if it was more out of politeness and courtesy than anything truly sincere.

"You're lucky, you know?" Clarke asked, shaking her head when Anya's face twisted into a familiar mix of anger and frustration. "Not... _that_. Just that my mom works until eight in the evening that day, coming off an on-call shift. She'll be sleeping until Christmas morning. Dad's flying in from Houston, coming back from some consultation or something. He'll be arriving around midnight, so he won't want me waiting up, he'll just take a taxi home. I'm officially free all Christmas Eve."

The sheer relief in Anya's sigh as she leaned her head back and shut her eyes was probably the happiest she'd ever seen the girl. Which wasn't much, given she always looked off or at least annoyed in her presence, but still.

"That...that's fortunate. So you'll do this for me?" Anya asked, looking honest to god surprised that she might go along with the hare-brained plan.

"With a few conditions...yeah, I will. It's _your_ date. I'm a woman of my word, and as vice prez of the student council, my people need this." Clarke answered, watching Anya's face sink a bit for some reason or another. Probably the realization finally sinking in that she'd paid six-hundred dollars for a non-date.

"Right. Well, I appreciate your sense of duty. I'm sure we can find a way to make sure it's not an unbearable day for the both of us." Anya noted stiffly, crossing the hall and kneeling down to grab something from a bag that Clarke hadn't honestly noticed until then. Clarke stared at the offered piece of cardstock for a moment, but took it when Anya let out an annoyed huff. "That has my number on it. Text me with any pertinent information so we can plan."

At that, Anya grabbed her bag, stood up and walked away, stilling a few meters down the hall. "And...thank you, Clarke. Regardless."

Clarke watched Anya swiftly march her way down the empty hall. Attendance was still mandatory as long as the festivities were taking place during school hours, but she got the feeling that the cheerleader didn't quite care about that at the moment.

She lifted the card to her face to read it better, inadvertently catching the scent of it. _God that...it smells like heaven..._ Clarke mused, bringing it to her nose and taking an actual sniff, sinking back against the wall at the glory of its aroma. _Okay, wow. Well at least I know she'll smell nice..._

All that was on the card was Anya's name, address, and phone number, all in an elegant scrawl.

"Welp, the year's been a mess anyways. May as well cap it off with a night I might regret for the rest of my life." Clarke muttered to herself, burying her face in her hands and exhaling a tired sigh. "The things I do for my people."

* * *

 

As luck would have it, Clarke managed to head home a little early. Lexa reassured her that she and Indra, the treasurer, could handle all the finances, and that they could all get together at a later date to discuss budgeting and what, if any, other fundraisers might be needed to acquire the funds for the rest of the year's events.

So as soon as the bell rang, she was gone, in her car and heading home to change and try to at least temporarily forget the day had ever happened. Curling up in bed and watching Netflix on her laptop seemed like the best way to spend the Friday evening.

She couldn't get the dress off fast enough once she was home, leaving her heels in the foyer and quickly changing into a pair of thermal leggings, her favourite sweater, and some fuzzy socks. It felt good, not only being much warmer, but distancing herself from the auction, making it feel just like any other school-night evening.

She was just starting up an episode of Sense8 when she heard the front door open downstairs along with loud bickering. Because of course Raven and Octavia would let themselves in and stampede up the stairs like two excited and clumsy puppies.

"siiiiiiIIIX HUNDRED DOLLARS!" Raven yelled as she tromped up the staircase and threw the bedroom door open, palms pressing against the doorframe. "What the FUCK!"

Octavia slipped under Raven's arms, shaking her head and laughing. "That's like, a politician buying bareback anal kind of coin."

"No, that's high class escort giving 'the girlfriend experience' kind of money, holy shit! Holy fuck Clarke, what the hell?!" Raven countered before charging to the bed and flopping halfway on top of her, Clarke only just barely managing to get her laptop to safety.

"Yeah, I didn't see it coming either." Clarke agreed as Octavia flopped onto the bed as well, thankfully by the foot instead of creating a dog pile up at the top with her and Raven.

Still, Octavia's hands started raining down on her feet excitedly, glee shining in her eyes. "Still! I thought she hated your guts, but she wants the G! She wants it so bad!"

"I literally cannot imagine the thirst she must have for you. SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS! Fuck!" Raven yelled in agreement, and okay, she understood their enthusiasm, but was it too much to ask that she be allowed to just ignore reality for a little while and not celebrate a girl who hated her pulling her in for a favor?

"It's not like that, honestly." Clarke started to protest, only for Octavia to halfway leap up her body, crashing down on her sternum.

"She paid six hundred bones for you, babe. She wants you." Octavia argued, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to disagree.

Which, well, she had to, since it wasn't true, even if it might have been nice if it was. "She doesn't want to date me, she wants a favor from me that none of her friends can get her. She's got a lot of money, so six hundred's nothing to her, she already said I could walk and her donation would still stand."

Octavia's confused sputtering was expected, but sadly, Raven wasn't so convinced. "No one throws six hundred dollars at a girl and doesn't expect a little action."

"We already went over the details. It's not like that, she just needs me for something, and then it's over. She was fine if I said no, and she doesn't expect me to go to the Valentine's Day dance with her. She just needed a favor. Apparently she doesn't know anyone else who could do this, at least not on short notice like this." Clarke explained with a few white lies, only making Raven's face twist more in bewilderment.

"It's her sister, isn't it?" Octavia asked quietly, pulling Clarke's attention from Raven. "She wants you to do something for her around Christmas, right?"

Sure, winter break was coming up once school let out on Tuesday, but Octavia's prediction was right on point. "I told her I couldn't on Christmas Day, so we agreed on Christmas Eve." Clarke admitted, unsure why her words had O visibly fighting her emotions. "Is something wrong with her sister?"

Octavia let out a heavy sigh and crawled up beside her. "A few years ago, her kid sister drowned. They had all this family over, and her sister snuck out to play by the pond with something she got, I guess, and...she went under, and no one noticed until it was too late, which in the winter...isn't long. Mom sends them a gift basket of stuff every year...said it was hard taking their statements and interviewing everyone. Whole family was a mess, especially Anya. No one should lose family on Christmas."

Clarke just sat there, trying to digest the information, trying to imagine what it'd be like to lose a family member, especially on a day where family was supposed to celebrate together, to come together and see the good in the world. Suddenly, she found herself with a hell of a lot more questions than answers, including why her parents had never talked about it, and how she hadn't heard about it.

For now, though, she'd just nod along, not wanting to betray Anya's confidence.

"Fuck. Well...okay, yeah, probably not a date, then. What, she want you to, like, do a painting or something? Or re-decorate a room? Or...hell, I don't know." Raven asked, ideas clumsily fumbling out of her.

"I think it's best kept between me and her, at least until it's over." Clarke stated, earning a set of nods from her friends.

"Shit, now I can't even be excited about it anymore. Here I was imagining some Pretty Woman shit with you two, and it turns out she's not even into ladies, she just needs you for a favor. Why's reality gotta kill my mood?" Raven complained, sighing with annoyance as she ambled off the bed. "I'm gonna go make a frozen pizza."

Clarke rolled her eyes, hoping Raven would keep some left over for her. Pizza and Netflix was a nice combination.

"Oh, no you don't! Last time I left you to do that, you covered it with _pineapple_!" Octavia yelled, chasing Raven out of the room and down the stairs much the same way they came up, Raven's laughter echoing through the home.

Clarke knew those two would be distracted for a while yet, giving her the chance to do some initial prodding to figure out exactly what was expected of her come Christmas Eve. She pulled out the small bit of cardstock, maybe took a sniff of the fading fragrance, and took hold of her phone.

* * *

 

Anya wasn't sure whether to feel miserable or relieved as she stretched out in her bed, the long walk home having worn her out enough to where she was pretty sure she wouldn't leave her bed again that evening unless it was absolutely necessary. Especially with how delightfully warm it was under the covers.

Honestly, she already halfway regretted her foolish plan. It was a large reason why she'd initially balked at the prospect of bidding, letting Blake and Collins make their respective efforts instead. It was only a flash of fear across Clarke's face as Monty made the last call on Finn's bid that she'd found the courage to lift her bidding paddle.

Not that she envisioned herself as some sort of saviour. Far from it, given Clarke's confused and horrified reaction to her voice. Sure, it'd lasted a split second, but still, she had eyes. And her hearing wasn't so poor that she couldn't hear the hostility and indifference in the girl's voice, how Clarke would accompany her on Christmas Eve purely out of duty, not a shred of empathy or care guiding the decision.

Perhaps her plan would have always turned out to be such a heart-wrenching disappointment, but it wasn't as if she had many options.  She needed answers and clarity, and Clarke was the only girl she knew who could help her get them. A girl who seemed to firmly hate her, which...in all honesty...might have been justified in the reverse, but she'd never done anything to Clarke.

Anya turned onto her side, fluffing up her pillow a bit more before resting her head back down onto it. "I just told her to leave. When she covered me in paint, I was angry, but I only ever told her to leave." She murmured to herself, wondering at what point Clarke's view of her had soured. It was one of the great mysteries of her high school experience.

Honestly, they shared quite a few classes together over the years. She'd never spoken with malice towards her, even if she might not have been overly _kind_ , either. She'd never pushed her around physically or directed punishment her way. She'd honestly just aggressively ignored her until she was no longer angry about the accident; perhaps that took two months, but after that, it wasn't as if she had glared at the girl with disdain, or sneered her way when passing in the halls.

And yet, Clarke's eyes would get sharper around her, she'd frown more in her presence, body often more tense and taut as if expecting a fight. Everything about Clarke screamed that Anya wasn't welcome near her, so she'd stayed away, kept her expressions neutral, and kept from trying to even be friends. Clarke wanted nothing to do with her, for whatever reason.

There was a selfish part of her that couldn't help but feel hurt over that truth. Even before her days of figuring out her sexuality, she'd always found the other blonde to be talented and wonderful, and would steal and cherish glances when she could. And even after the accident, at least Clarke always reacted when she was around. She was never invisible to Clarke, never unnoticed, and even if it was negative energy sent her way, it was _something_. Clarke always saw her, for better or worse.

Still, if Clarke hated her, then she'd keep it all as impersonal as possible for both of their benefit. Come the end of the evening on Christmas Eve, their business would be done, and Clarke would likely never have to speak to her again for the rest of their time at high school.

Maybe that would be for the best.

The buzzing of her phone on the nightstand pulled Anya from her thoughts, confused at who would be texting her. Lexa and Costia were having a date night, and Lincoln never texted her while he was at work.  Confused, she reached out, eventually got hold of her phone, and pulled it under the covers where she was resting.

Anya stared at the screen, specifically that an unknown number had sent her a text. Anxiety ramped up just a slight bit that it could be Clarke, for whatever reason, she unlocked her phone and checked the message.

 **410-555-0111**  
_Hey, it's Clarke. Thought I'd send you a text so you'd have my number._

"Oh...I suppose that does make sense. I did give her mine." Anya mused as the quickly created a new contact profile for Clarke on her phone. That, of course, only took a few seconds, leaving her wondering how to respond.

"Do I...do I thank her? That might be appropriate. Concise and to the point. But...she's had a trying day...would it be impolite not to wish her a pleasant evening given all she's gone through today? Or...heck, maybe that would come across as insincere, given our dynamic. I don't want to insult her. Ugh..." Anya muttered to herself, wishing there was an easy answer on how to handle it all. Clarke had always perplexed her, and it didn't seem that was likely to change any time soon.

When the next message came in, the vibration nearly startled the phone out of her hands.

 **Clarke Griffin**  
_Also, I was wondering what traditions, if any, you or your family do on xmas eve? Because I have a small handful of my own and the ones I can't fit in while I'm at home, I'd like to be able to do at yours?_

Thankful for having a bit of a temporary reprieve from worrying about how to sign off, Anya quickly tapped out a response.

 **Anya Pine**  
_Nothing too unique. The tree gets decorated, Christmas music is played on the stereo system, candles are lit_

Sure there were a few more that Anya liked to fit in, but sometimes, given how draining the holidays could be for her, she just couldn't muster up the energy to do them. No harm in omitting ones she knew could fall by the wayside.

 **Clarke Griffin**  
_Sounds good!  I like to do some baking. Sugar cookies and gingerbread mostly, I'll bring all the stuff for it. And I tend to cap the night off with a movie and some of the apple cider I make?_

Anya's teeth found her lower lip, knowing that she and Tris would always bake cookies together. Still, there was a difference in doing something alone without her sister, and doing it with someone new who might be able to distract her. Her parents silently refused to take part in or acknowledge any of the old traditions, which she knew was just their way of coping, but it wasn't hers.

She couldn't just forget Tris and pretend she never existed, especially this time of the year. She couldn't pretend they weren't a family this time of the year, either, or any other time of the year for that matter.

 **Anya Pine**  
_I'll make sure you have all the time you need. I promise. All of that sounds fine to me_

Really, it sounded much better than fine. Tremendously better than fine in a number of ways. Still, she had to keep distance; Clarke didn't want to do her this favour, Clarke didn't want to spend a day with her, let alone Christmas Eve. There was no point getting her hopes up.

 **Clarke Griffin**  
_Good to hear. Also, what's the dress code? I don't know much about your parents, but I do know they tend to be stickers when it comes to clothes during parties and events and stuff_

Anya stared at the curious text, surprised that Clarke remembered as much about her parents.

 **Anya Pine**  
_Honestly, so long as you look neat and presentable, they wouldn't dare say anything. With that in mind, dress however you feel most comfortable. If they care how anyone is dressed it will be me_

She was sure however Clarke dressed, it'd be appropriate and that the girl would look lovely as always. Even with paint in her hair, and charcoal markings on her hands, arms, and face, Clarke was stunning.

 **Clarke Griffin**  
_Good to know. Also, if you can, whatever you sprayed that card of yours with, wear that. It's very nice._

_I'll let you know if anything changes, but you can pick me up around 2pm? That way, if your parents have a hard time with it, we can head back to mine and wait out that initial reaction somewhere safe_

Anya felt her chest tighten as the first hint of tears burned in her eyes and throat. That a girl who hated her would willingly take her in for the evening and protect her if things went poorly, it was entirely unexpected and had her heart thudding harder in her chest like a war drum. Not that she ever had any doubt that Clarke was a good person, but that she'd put aside their history to make sure she could come out safely was a shining example of the girl's character.

 **Anya**  
_That kindness is above and beyond what I could ask you for, Clarke. I would be deeply in your debt, but I thank you for the offer. I hope it will not come to that._

Truth be told, Anya wasn't certain how her parents would react. They'd rarely been present, and when they were around, they always kept themselves at a distance, both physically and emotionally. Growing up, they'd been intensely traditional, pushing her to be a good girl, to get a boyfriend, to be a cheerleader, to get good enough grades to get to college so she could graduate and make something of herself on top of finding a suitable husband. With both of them working, they at least didn't expect her to stay home and raise a literal horde of children; on that, they broke rank, expecting her to rise to be a prominent politician, or a CEO of some successful company, or a lawyer. Some position with great power.

It was her hope that they would break rank from tradition on her sexuality, but ever since Tris, it was like pulling teeth trying to get their attention, to get them to notice her, to have an honest conversation with her.

Christmas Eve was the perfect opportunity. They'd both be home, both be a bit more emotionally vulnerable and thus less guarded and distanced. Of course, they'd probably expect to be able to ignore her all day and just keep each other's company, but she'd disrupt that with Clarke.

How that would end up was anyone's guess.

 **Clarke Griffin**  
_I hope not, either, but the offer stands. No one should have to deal with coming out on their own, and no one should be alone on Christmas._

_Anyways I've got a fire alarm going off so I should take care of that. Text me if the plan changes._

Anya stared down at the text and frowned, quickly tapping out a message.

 **Anya Pine**  
_I hope all is well with your home. But yes, I will let you know if any adjustments need to be made. Take care, Clarke, I hope you have a pleasant weekend_

Deciding not to think too hard about her message, she sent it off, thinking that it'd just be impolite not to wish the girl well after the amount of texts they had shared. Besides, Clarke had bridged the emotional distance slightly by offering sanctuary if the worst came to pass, so it was only right to offer some kindness in return. And if Clarke took some comfort in her favourite perfume, then all the better.

It didn't mean that their arrangement was any less a sort of business deal. It didn't mean that Clarke would ever have freely chosen to aid her instead of spending it at home doing her own thing.

Anya placed her phone on the night table again and pulled her sister's old Cthulhu squishable closer, suddenly feeling in desperate need of a nap. It'd been a long day, a long few years, but maybe some good could come of it this Christmas.

Just maybe.

* * *

 

"I'm just saying, it's gonna be _fiiiiine_. Don't worry about it."

Raven's absolute nonchalance about the day's events was beginning to grate a bit on her nerves, but she pushed it aside, too busy frantically packing what she could into her luggage. Christmas Eve had been a mess so far, waking up late, missing her usual morning workout, and then learning her mother had stashed a lot of their Christmas stuff away in the attic and forgot to bring it out in time for the big day.

It all left her with a shortage of time, and she was going to be late. She was going to be _late_ , it was _two_ in the afternoon, and Anya would be there _any second_. The last thing she needed was for Anya to be upset or annoyed or angry when the girl already low-key hated her.

"Just shut up and find something decent for me to wear. I need an extra in case I fuck this up with my baking." Clarke shot back, earning a quick scoff. "Quiet! You know how clumsy I get when I bake! It's like when I paint...somehow I'll find ways to have flour all over my face and in my hair, and icing on my nose, and just...find me _something_."

Honestly, she loved Raven, but the girl was just as happy to hassle her as she was to pitch in and help. At least Octavia was down in the kitchen stocking up all the supplies she'd need without giving her an earful over how it'd all work out.

To make matters worse, she'd only seen Anya at school here and there since the auction, and only ever in passing, without speaking. There had been no updates, no follow-up texts, nothing. It had her anxiety firing full steam ahead, and there was little she could do about any of it until Anya arrived, which couldn't even be relieving given how behind she was in packing.

"You know, I'm getting weird vibes right now because this is exactly like what a pre-date Clarke Griffin freak-out looks like. But like I said, it's not a date, it'll be _fine_. You're not gonna fuck this up. She won't mind waiting two or three more minutes." Raven said as she dug around in the closet, and given she was so entirely off-point about the situation, Clarke was about to go off on her. The rebuttal was on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be unleashed, but the sound of the doorbell killed any words she might have thought up as anxiety and anticipation burned through her veins.

"Fuck." Clarke grit out, quickly getting to her feet and rushing downstairs, Raven following close behind.

She slowed her face as she entered the foyer, checked herself in the mirror quickly, and then marched over to open the door.

Words like 'good afternoon', or 'hey, come in' were bouncing around in her mind, but she couldn't quite vocalize them. Not with Anya all bundled up in a big fuzzy white coat, eyes all soft and unguarded, cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

Just the sight of Anya looking like a wintery goddess, with a sparkly snowflake hair comb in her elaborate updo, a subtle dusting of glitter on her face and neck to match her glimmering chandelier earrings, dressed all cozy and cute, it all had Clarke's legs suddenly feeling weaker than ever.

"Anya, hey, get on in here, Clarke's just running a little late." Raven called out, halfway stepping past her and gesturing for the girl to come in. Anya only hesitated for a moment, eyes darting to Raven briefly as she made her way into the foyer, letting Raven close the door behind her. "Clarkey, you just do what you've gotta do, I'll keep our guest entertained."

Now, on one hand Clarke was happy for the out, the offer to let her head back upstairs, take a breather, and settle her nerves and the sudden influx of butterflies in her stomach. On the other hand, she knew that leaving Anya with Raven could be disastrous.

"I'll be done soon, I promise." She let out, rushing into the kitchen to thankfully spot Octavia finishing packing everything up. "Hey, I think I can get it from here. Can you babysit Raven out in the foyer?"

Octavia just laughed. "I can _try_ to wrangle her, yeah. That was Anya at the door?"

"Yep. And honestly, that's all I can ask of you." Clarke answered, sweeping up the bags Octavia had packed and quickly rushing upstairs to finish packing. It wasn't as if she needed much, but it was always best to plan in case of emergency.

She quickly finished packing an overnight bag, grabbing a spare change of clothes from the closet that she hoped would pass muster with Anya's parents, some warm socks in case she got cold, a spare set of dressy heels in case they were a hundred percent required, some lounge clothes for sleeping if the weather changed drastically and they got snowed in, and her thankfully pre-packed travel bathroom bag.

As content as she figured she could be about it all, she grabbed everything up and made her way back down to the foyer, hoping that the day would go off without a hitch, and hoping that she could shake how cute Anya looked. It'd be one thing going into the whole deal impersonally, being there as a support, a catalyst for Anya coming out. It was an entirely different thing if her heart fluttered every time she met Anya's gaze, or any time they touched.

She just hoped she was prepared for the night ahead.

* * *

 

It had taken a moment to shake off the shock once Clarke had swung the door open to greet her, too immediately enraptured by how pretty the girl was in her sweater dress to do much of anything but freeze on the spot and gawk. Thankfully, Clarke hadn't seemed to notice, apparently too flustered over running a little late.

She honestly hadn't expected Clarke to have company when she arrived, but given how inseparable the trio was at school, it wasn't a tremendous surprise.

"So wow, look at you all fancy." Raven noted a few seconds after Clarke had disappeared off into the home. "You and Clarke will probably be sipping champagne tonight while I'm guzzling down my bottle of grape crush."

Anya rolled her eyes, allowing herself a smile at the lighthearted banter even if it was clearly Raven's attempt a being nosy and trying to get details. "Neither of us are old enough to drink alcohol, Raven."

"On second thought, thank god for that. Wouldn't want one of you to get hammered and wreck the aesthetic...you two are honestly way too pretty for any Christmas celebration I've been to." Raven said with a sagely nod, gesturing a hand up and down in front of Anya. "I mean... _lady_. Are you trying to kill her?"

She couldn't help but recoil at the assertion that she'd done anything out of malice. If anything, she felt guilty for reeling Clarke into this and wanted to make it as comfortable for her as possible. "Pardon?"

"You look incredible. Pretty sure you nearly gave our girl Griffin a heart attack, showing up looking like that." Raven clarified, even if she wasn't particularly making any more sense.

"I told her my parents are strict when it comes to what I wear during holiday events. I could hardly pick her up around nine in sweats and have her sit around for five hours while I prepared for the day." Anya stated, watching Raven's eyes go wide, the girl nodding quickly.

"Okay, yeah, well, five hours or not, you look like a million bucks." Raven noted, leaning in closer as footsteps approached. "And between you and me, if this thing with Clarke doesn't work out, if this _is_ actually a date instead of just some favor Clarke's doing for you, you come find me. I would climb you like a Christmas tree."

Anya's eyes bulged at the whispered declaration, cheeks burning at the sheer forwardness of it all, but she couldn't help but feel a little relieved. Clarke had told her friends it wasn't a date, which was the truth, and which protected her privacy on her sexuality, and it let her know that if she did go public that someone could be interested.

Not having to face down a half a year of loneliness would be much better than the alternative.

"Raven, stop putting the moves on Any _ohhh my god_. Wow. You... _shit_ , let me take your coat, it's like a _furnace_ in this house, you must be melting." Octavia Blake spoke, stumbling over her words a little, which was a bit ridiculous. It wasn't like the girl hadn't been to any remotely formal event in her life before. Anya distinctly recalled the girl attending last year's prom.

Still, when Octavia approached, she let the girl help her out of her coat.

"Oh shit, Clarke will absolutely kill herself on the stairs if you don't put that coat back on." Raven insisted, causing Octavia to pause just as she was freeing Anya's arms from the coat.

Octavia hesitated and looked her over with a strange intensity. "Yeah, she'll probably fall and break her neck."

"But what a way to go. Leave it off." Raven stated, swiftly grabbing up the coat and folding it over her arm, holding it against her chest.

"If you're so insistent that I'm overdressed, _fine_ , but don't..." Anya started, only for Octavia to quickly step in front of her, hands resting on her shoulders.

"Nope, not even a bit. You look _perfect_. If we're teasing anyone, it's Clarke." Octavia interrupted quickly, earning a swift nod from Raven.

"Truth. Clarke gets these like, really intense gay sweats around her underboob? They don't stink or anything, weirdly enough, but like, it's _very moist_. Don't be alarmed if you see it, and it's probably best not to mention it unless it's in the process of utterly destroying her dress." Raven clarified with far more detail than Anya probably would have preferred. Honestly, she didn't understand why Clarke's hygiene was even being brought up. It wasn't like the girl was attracted to her in any sense of the word.

"It's true. Actually tragic, really." Octavia agreed, earning a quick scoff from her friend.

Raven gave Octavia a light shove. "Don't listen to her, it's _fantastic_. Octavia's the tragic one, lusting after _Mall Santa_." Raven joked, swatting away a swipe from Octavia. "Clarke's not the one into mister tall, dark, and has a thing for fat suits."

"I have seen him after shift and he's _ridiculous_ , Raven! Don't laugh!" Octavia yelled, not that her pleas did anything to stop Raven's exuberant laughter.

Still, the vague description did have Anya thinking. "The Santa over at Blue Cliff Mall?"

Her words stilled both girls momentarily, Raven shooting her a curious look while Octavia practically swooned. "Yes! Or, well, not the guy in his fifties that does the weekends, but the one who runs weekdays."

Anya could hardly believe the coincidence. "That's my cousin, Lincoln." She stated simply, feeling a little strange at how Octavia's jaw dropped, excitement flashing in her eyes. It was always a little weird when girls would swoon over her older cousin. "He's...he's single, I suppose. If you'd like, I could introduce you to him? He'll be at Lexa's New Year's Eve party."

"I will swear a blood oath to you if you do this for me." Octavia promised, voice low and deadly serious.  Still, Lincoln always did like interesting women, and Octavia probably fit that bill. If she remembered right, Lincoln was only around seventeen months older than the girl.

"You will do no such thing, OctaaaAAAGH!" Clarke called out from the staircase, missing a step and stumbling down to the landing midway down, colliding hard against the wall and dropping what looked to be a carry-on luggage bag.  "Ow!"

Worried, Anya rushed over to the staircase, leaving the two laughing girls behind as she came to Clarke's side, looking the girl over. "Are you alright? Did you hurt anything?"

Clarke kept her eyes winced shut as her head leaned against the wall, lifting a hand to rub at a red area that would likely grow into a bump. "Just hit my head a little. Twisted my ankle a bit, but it'll be fine, I think."

"Please tell me if that changes. I'll carry your bags down, please take your time." She rushed out, not understanding why Clarke was packing as if she were heading on a trip, but that wasn't quite so important at the moment.

It was a quick job, just ten steps to the bottom. She was back up at the landing just as Clarke stepped away from the wall and shook her head. "Here, take the railing and my hand."

"I'm not concussed, I just bumped my head." Clarke complained, though thankfully grabbed hold of the railing and placed a hand in Anya's. She wished in that moment that she hadn't worn gloves, but Clarke's safety mattered more than her small shreds of pleasure as they made a safe descent to the foyer. "Thanks. At least _someone_ wanted to make sure I didn't break my neck." Clarke added, shooting Raven and Octavia a light glare, stilling their fading laughter for a moment.

"Raven was the one who took her coat." Octavia shot out quickly, pointing an accusing finger at their friend.

Raven slapped the hand away, pointing her thumb back at Octavia. "She's the one who took her coat _off_ , blame _her_."

"That's _not_..." Clarke started, face-palming at the rather confusing set of accusations flying around. Anya had no idea what her coat had to do with anything. "You two are fired. You had _one job_."

"Correction...we _volunteered_." Raven countered, crossing her arms, Octavia stepping up beside her, eyebrow cocking in agreement.

Clarke picked up one of the bags she'd carried downstairs and leveled a blank stare at the duo. "Because you wanted to use my TV for a Christmas movie marathon, and Raven left her bags of Hot Cheetos here last time around."

"I knew it! I was _wondering_ where those went." Raven blurted out, earning an annoyed shove from Octavia. " _What_? She only spoke the truth. You want to watch Die Hard on the fifty-five inch beast. I want to get my Muppets fix in on something bigger than my laptop screen."

"You're a disappointment, Reyes." Octavia rebutted, huffing loudly as she shot Clarke an unimpressed look. "Anyways, you two should probably get to it right?"

"We should, yeah." Clarke said, maneuvering around everyone en route to the closet to grab her winter coat.

Raven was gracious enough to bring hers over and help her back into it. "Remember what I said. Just don't hurt our girl." The girl whispered into her ear, gently adjusting the fit of the coat on her shoulders.

Anya peered over her shoulder at the brainy mechanic. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Raven just let out a long sigh, staring at her with a strange degree of warmth. "Yeah, didn't think you would, ever since Clarke opened that door. You're not what I expected."

"C'mon, John McClane waits for no one!" Octavia yelled, grabbing Raven and whisking her off towards what was likely the living room. Which, of course, left her alone with Clarke.

Anya picked up the remaining bags and brought them over to Clarke, who was slipping into her big blue parka. "Do you need anything else before we leave?"

"Nope." Clarke answered, zipping up her coat and picking up her carry-on with mittened hands. "Let's head out."

Clarke opened the door and followed Anya out to the car, both of them stashing the bags in the back seat. "Why did you pack so much, anyways? Are you going on a trip afterward?"

Clarke let out two sarcastic fake laughs, rolling her eyes as they got into the front seats. "I just like to be prepared."

"That makes one of us, I fear." Anya admitted as she slipped her seatbelt on, fighting the urge not to slump into her seat. "I have no idea what to do, Clarke."

"Hey..." Clarke murmured, her pale hand reaching across the center console. With great trepidation, Anya took hold of it, wishing even more that neither of them had worn gloves, yearning to feel the warmth of Clarke's touch. "We'll get through this together. We had drama classes together our first three years at school, we're more than capable of acting our way through this when we need to."

Anya shook her head, even as she gave Clarke's hand a brief squeeze. "I wish I had your confidence. I know I have to do this, I have to let them know, but...I don't want to accidentally violate you."

She winced at the hardly restrained laughter that escaped Clarke, unsure why the girl thought it was a laughing matter. "Anya, you're a baby gay and you're nervous. That's natural from what I can tell. Just focus on the small stuff...brushing and holding hands, gentle touches, standing close-by...and if we have to kiss, we kiss, no big."

Of course, it was a _very_ big deal. At least, for Anya, who had never kissed a girl in her entire lifetime. To have her first kiss be with someone who was repulsed by her was not a nice thought. "I'm so sorry for putting you in this situation. Honestly, you can leave me to handle it, I'm sure I'll be fine, I..."

"Anya." Clarke spoke, her name gentle and measured as it tumbled from the other girl's lips and filled the interior of the car. "I'm with you. You don't have to do this alone. Just...cool it with the whole cold anger you send my way all the time, and I'm sure your parents won't think twice about us."

Anya turned a bit in her seat, the seatbelt digging uncomfortably into her lap from the adjustment, but it was entirely necessary, because none of what Clarke said made sense. Or, well, the cold anger part, at least.

"Clarke, I don't _glare_ at you." Anya noted slowly, unsure where Clarke's assertion was coming from.

"You really do. Like, maybe you're not actively trying to, but you definitely, like, _put it out there_." Clarke shot back with a huff.

"Put _what_ out there?" She asked, increasingly baffled and worried that she might have made strange faces at Clarke in the past without knowing it.

"That you _hate_ me! You..." Clarke blurted out, stunning Anya enough for the other girl to take a deep breath as Anya's mind recalibrated. "You hate me. It's plain as day, and I _get_ it. But if you want your parents to believe you're dating me, you can't show it. I don't want to be embarrassed like that."

In that moment, Anya wished she had some paint nearby to smack in Clarke's face, because there was just no truth to her words. Although, after a few seconds of thought, she had an idea of what might have happened.

"Clarke, I need you to look at me." Anya stated slowly, eyeing the other girl expectantly until Clarke did as she was asked, reluctantly and sadly meeting her gaze. "I'm going to do something in a second, and I want you to tell me if you think it's me glaring at you. Okay?"

Clarke nodded subtly, leading Anya to take a deep, calming breath and relax herself completely as she faced Clarke. Immediately, the other blonde recoiled slightly. "That's it!"

"That's my _'resting bitch face'_ , Clarke." She countered flatly as Clarke blinked in confusion. "I've been told I have a particularly severe one, which is why I've been trained to be animated in my facial expressions, and be as brightly expressive as I can be at all times. But sometimes I get lost in thought, and it comes out. It's not me glaring, that's...that's just _my face_."

Anya was fairly certain that if she took a tomato and held it up against Clarke's face, the girl's cheeks would be a deeper red. "But...you...sometimes you'd talk to me and you'd insult me for being covered in paint."

Anya's mouth twisted to the side in confusion. "Am...I not allowed to find it endearing that you dive so fully and wholeheartedly into your work that you end up covered in it? I didn't mean to insult you, I apologize if I hurt you...I'm not very good with words, one of a few things I apparently lack finesse in."

Clarke was gaping at her at that point, making it abundantly clear that perhaps they hadn't quite been on the same wavelength all this time. Not even close. "But...I ruined your shot at head cheerleader. You missed the first quarter of homecoming because of me."

"And I stopped liking you for maybe two-ish months because of it. It took some time to realize Luna may have held the title of Cheer Captain, but the squad was still mine. And it was just a football game. The first game I would have performed in as a varsity cheerleader, but still _just a game_. And it was clearly an accident, and you really were apologetic even if you've been more hostile to me since." Anya explained carefully, needing Clarke to really listen and understand her side of things in hopes there wouldn't be any more miscommunication. "I don't think I ever truly hated you. You upset me, and I felt a sense of loss because of you for a while, but...that's really all, Clarke. I've long since forgiven you and stopped caring about it. It was just an _accident_."

Because really, that's all it was. It was just an accident. One that covered her in a gross colour of paint from head to toe, with some getting in her nose and mouth and ears, but still just paint, with no malice intended.

" _Stopped_ liking me? You don't hate me?" Clarke asked, voice strained and eyes wide, hand shaking ever so slightly in Anya's grasp.

"Of course not. I wouldn't trust someone I hated with something like this. You're a good person, Clarke. Too good, perhaps, which is why you're here, and not back in there enjoying a night of movies, but I'll make it up to you. I'll do whatever I can to make it right." Anya promised, giving Clarke's hand another squeeze, brushing her thumb across smooth knuckles.

 Clarke let out a huff as her face contorted. "I...Anya, I've been glaring at you for a year now, thinking you were sending hate my way, so I'd just send some back. But I was an idiot, and _wrong_ , so just...you don't have to make up for anything." Clarke stated, lifting her other hand when Anya went to contest that. "No, _no_ , let me finish. If we were literal strangers instead of friends of the family, and you came up to me and asked for help in coming out, I'd still say yes, for _free_. I wouldn't need a six hundred dollar donation to say yes. Even with it being Christmas Eve, my day's clear, and you _asked_. You didn't demand, you asked, and you probably thought I hated you. But you still left it up to me. You still believed in me and trusted I could help. So all I need from you is for you to try and make tonight a good night, okay? If your parents are accepting and good with it, and everything works out, then all I ask of you is that you make it a good night. Otherwise, don't worry about it, okay?"

Anya tried to understand, she honestly did, but it sounded like Clarke was apologizing to her in a way, and that didn't seem right. "I'm lost."

Clarke rolled her eyes, turning her hand over to knit their fingers together. "Neither of us hate each other. So once we handle the reaction from your parents, so long as it's a positive one, there's no reason why this can't be some kind of a date...you know, if you want?"

Anya hoped to god that she wasn't hallucinating, because it honestly felt like angels were coming down from the heavens at the revelation. Clarke Griffin didn't hate her. Clarke Griffin wanted to help her come out. Clarke Griffin wanted to have a date with her on Christmas Eve.

Thoughts of them decorating and baking and cuddling up on the couch flowed into her head, and the hope she felt tasted sweet on her tongue, surely coating her words as she spoke. "It would be my pleasure, Clarke. I would really like that."

"Then let's get out of here."

* * *

 

Elation probably wasn't the right word to describe how she felt as they drove to Anya's home, knowing that the both of them still had to tackle the entirely unknown issue of her parents, but there was some excitement bubbling within her. There was joy, definitely, in knowing that someone she thought hated her, someone she'd kind of definitely crushed on in the past, actually seemed to care about her and respect her. The way Anya practically melted in front of her eyes when she admitted to wanting to date her, well, that was kind of everything.

"So...I guess we should go over a quick background for us? If your parents ask?" Clarke asked, realizing that they hadn't really covered the basics. It wasn't like they could say that Anya paid six hundred dollars to have a date with her.

"I...perhaps we're still in the stage where we're learning about each other? It's still new, but serious?" Anya answered, slowing to a stop at a red light. The vague proposal seemed like a decent start. It'd give them flexibility, they wouldn't have to be on the same page with everything.

"That makes sense. Just so you know, I'm totally gonna be the one calling you babe. For the record, and all." Clarke admitted, earning a curious glance from Anya in the driver's seat.

"What, I'm not allowed to refer to you that way, too?" The girl asked with a frown, apparently not knowing the rules.

"Nope! I called dibs, you'd have to find something else." Clarke answered, grinning at how Anya just laughed. "I'm serious, dead serious."

Anya shook her head and made her way through the intersection as the light went green. Clarke could see a slight bit of hesitation on her date's face as they headed out of town and down the county road to Anya's house. "Well...alright, sugarplum. I guess I'll just have to deal with it." Anya let out with a sigh, the corners of her lips twitching too much for Clarke to fall for her ruse.

"You didn't even _want_ to call me babe." Clarke accused, watching Anya's reaction closely for any tells. Not even a hint of surprise.

"It's like you said, Clarke. You called dibs." Anya said, head tilting up slightly, eyes shining with mirth.

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her date for such a nefarious plot. Tricking her into the easy choice and letting Anya go with something more unique, specific, fun. "No, you don't get off that easily. You had something else in mind from the start! Before I even spoke!"

"Well that's just conjecture." Anya shot back, smile spreading wide on her face.

"Come on. Like hell you thought up a festive term of endearment on the ball like that." She argued, not able to restrain her annoyed huff at Anya rolling her eyes. "I'm serious! Like, I'm curious, at what point today did you decide?"

Anya reached over with her right hand, resting it gently on her thigh. "Clarke..." Anya started, swallowing hard as her cheeks bloomed a rosy shade. "Just...think about it." The girl suggested, giving her thigh a rub before returning her hand to the wheel.

While she was all too happy to keep prodding for answers, it was clear that she'd missed something. She put Anya getting the jump on her on terms of endearment aside and focused on the word itself.

It was festive, of course, and old. Clarke was pretty sure they were, like, candied fruits at the turn of the nineteen-hundreds or something. She couldn't imagine Anya would be calling her old or prune-y or whatever. And if she wanted to call her sugar, she would have offered that term on its own. There was the 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy', which she honestly adored, and would often listen to while painting during the holiday season, but she knew Anya wasn't aware of that. Or at least, probably not.

Clarke shot Anya a curious glance, but the girl offered no answers, visually, just keeping her eyes dead ahead on the road. _No, probably doesn't know I like the song or any of that. And she's definitely not calling me graceful like a ballerina or fairy with how I paint and work. But then...hrm..._

The only other thing she could think of was that old poem people sometimes recited around the holidays. "The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads." Clarke murmured to herself, only just barely noticing Anya's teeth gently descending into her lip at the recital.

It took a moment, and maybe she felt really embarrassed that it took so long to catch on to Anya's meaning, but it was hard not to blush when it clicked. "God, for a baby gay, you're really smooth, you know that?"

"That's strange, I didn't hear a complaint in there." Anya teased, barely holding in her laughter as Clarke have her a tiny shove.

"Shut up.  Honestly, I'm still trying to deal with the fact that you've liked me for a while, and I had no clue because I thought you were pissed off at me, all because I'm a huge idiot and couldn't tell your blank expression from you _actually_ being angry." Clarke complained, honestly wishing she could go back in time and smack some sense into her younger self. Maybe then she could have asked said cute, sweet girl out on a date months before.

"Well, you'll have to deal with this face for the rest of the night. Bitchy and resting as it might be." Anya shot back with a laugh, thankfully not so upset at her for misinterpreting her facial expression for so long. God was that embarrassing. "But...you don't mind it? Me using that?"

Clarke honestly wondered if she maybe needed to be a little blunter with Anya, given her relative inexperience and probable nerves about it all. "Babe, the fact that you can call me something cute and remind me that you dream about me? All in a single word? It's impressive, and I kind of like it."

Maybe if Finn or Bellamy had given that kind of reasoning for the endearment, but Anya, even when Clarke thought the girl hated her, was at the very least generally polite and modest. It was incredibly doubtful that if those dreams had ever gone anywhere particularly shady or explicit that Anya would have felt comfortable admitting Clarke frequented them. So really, Clarke couldn't help feeling a little flattered.

The car slowed, Anya turning on her blinkers, waiting for a car to pass before turning into her driveway. With the house in view, it was clear as day across Anya's face that her anxiety about coming out was rushing back to her.

Clarke rested her hand on Anya's thigh, giving it a slow, gentle massage. "Hey, there's no rush. We can take our time and sit in here as long as you need.  And if you need to, we can head back and have a movie night with the dynamic duo back at mine, or something else, okay? You don't have to come out today if you aren't feeling it."

Anya pulled into the garage and slowed the car to a park, resting a shaking hand on Clarke's once the engine was off. "I can be strong. I know I can. This...this gets done today."

"Then let's do it." Clarke stated, unbuckling her seatbelt.

It was pleasantly warm in the garage as she stepped out of the car, a stark difference from the frigid temperature outside. Anya led her across to the door inside, guiding her into the foyer. It'd been years since she'd visited, but she remembered the iconic entrance. The place had felt so enormous as a young child, and even as a young adult, that had hardly changed, peering up at the second floor balcony overlooking the foyer.

"May I take your coat, Clarke?" Anya asked, eventually, breaking her focus from her surroundings only for Anya to steal her breath again.

God as her witness, Anya's dress would be the death of her; she'd always had trouble with a well done aesthetic, and Anya was just killing it.  On one hand, it was as if it was made for Anya, complementing her frame wonderfully, the black tulle overlay woven with such intricacy that the dress glittered like a starlit sky deep in the wilderness, far from any pollution that would mask its beauty. The red ribbon at her waist broke the illusion in a way that felt like a string hanging from the sky, that if she held it close and pulled, that she might dare to touch it and all its mysteries.

Which was dangerous enough on its own, but was amplified because the other half of her just wanted to put her grubby hands on Anya, pull her glitter-dusted self close, and learn her inch by inch.

So maybe she needed a breath or three to regain function of her body. She'd already nearly gained a concussion because of it all, she needed to find a way to adjust.

 _Nothing like trial by fire..._ she mused, shrugging out of her coat and handing it to Anya, who promptly hung it up in the closet.

While her date's back was turned she sidled up against her, resting a hand on the bow above the small of her back. "Are your parents home?" Clarke knew her voice came out a little too low, a little too throaty, and wasn't sure if Anya was blushing because she was close, because of the touch, or from the tone of her voice.

Still, she was really pretty when she blushed.

"I can hear their music, and I smell food, but there's no clattering sounds from the kitchen. Mother's probably with my father in the den." Anya answered as she knelt and stripped off her winter boots. Clarke needed a moment to catch up, remembering exactly where she was and what Anya's family was like.

"So, do I need to toss on some indoor shoes too, or..." Clarke asked, letting her voice trail off as Anya slipped into a set of heels.

"No, you'll be fine in your fuzzy socks, Clarke. I'm going to school for business, and even before I started high school, mother's had me wearing heels indoors at home to get used to wearing them for long stretches at a time. According to her, going heelless in business would be 'all pain, no gain' for me due to sexist standards, so I should play along." Anya clarified, offering her a noncommittal shrug. "It's not _terrible_. I'm fortunate enough to be able to afford more comfortable heels than most, so I'm not bothered so much by them."

"...but you'd prefer fuzzy socks." Clarke added, filling in the blanks, watching Anya's posture sag the tiniest bit.

"Yes." Anya's answer was simple, and quiet, as if her mother was lurking around the corner, waiting to reprimand her.

Clarke decided to kill two birds with one stone, pulling Anya in for a gentle hug, immediately loving and regretting it for how incredible Anya smelled. "When you come over to mine, I'll share my fuzzy socks with you, I promise." She whispered, allowing herself a legitimate sniff, taking in the wonderful aroma she recognized from the card. "God, you smell _heavenly_. Just, uh...just thought you should know. You smell really good."

"I'm honestly a little surprised. It's my favourite, although most people I know hate it. I basically never wear it out...the card was an excuse to use it for the first time in months." Anya admitted, catching her off guard, because while it was a little strong, and perhaps a bit unorthodox, it was wonderful.

Clarke nuzzled her nose against Anya's neck, adoring how it felt to be wrapped up in Anya's arms, with her aroma surrounding them. "It's soothing and tranquil, with a lingering warmth like the embers of a dying fire, and the...I'm not sure what it is but it smells like I'm wrapped up under the stars in the middle of a sunflower field, and there's a hint of my familiar vanilla calling me home, but not yet...not yet..." Clarke rambled, taking one last inhale before separating, ducking her head to hide her blush. "But that's probably just me over-sharing. Just...you smell _nice_ , and everyone else is _wrong_."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that decree come down from on high." Anya joked, hand gently brushing against Clarke's for a brief moment, then another. "Ready?"

Clarke took hold of Anya's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "You know it."

* * *

 

There was a certain tingling dread rippling across her body as she made her way to the den, not entirely knowing what to expect, just that it probably wouldn't go down without great effort. She'd just have to try, and keep pressing until her words registered, until they had to actually respond.

At least, that was the plan, as she came to a halt near the entrance of the den, her mother's favourite Michael Bublé Christmas album playing.  She didn't even have to look over her shoulder to see Clarke to know the girl was watching her.

"Just keep moving forward, babe. One step at a time, one...okay, sorry, I think I'm quoting Rocky, so I'm just gonna stop that, but you can do this. I've got you." Clarke noted softly, stumbling with her words in an entirely endearing way.

"If it gets too dicey in there, you just tell me when to bring out the shovel hook or to work the body, okay?" Anya asked with a nervous grin as she turned her gaze to her date, trying and maybe not entirely succeeding to infuse the moment with some levity.

"You know it, babe. I'm in your corner." Clarke shot back with a cheeky smile, giving her a prod forward.

Feeling a little better about it, Anya rounded the corner into the den, catching her parents huddled around the desk, looking at something on her father's tablet.

"Mother? Father?" She called out, and though her parents were far too practiced to have a deer in the headlights expression by now, she could see the slight increase in tension in their posture. "Our guest for the evening is here. You both remember Clarke."

Her mother was the first to react, her father remaining still and silent, questioning eyes flicking between her and Clarke. "It has been ages! Oh, how you've grown, darling. Let me get a look at you." Her mom said as she approached them, her feigned excitement a polite enough gesture. Not too over the top, really.

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Pine." Clarke stated with all the gentle courtesy in the cosmos, as if she'd been playing as diplomacy for ages. "Thank you both so much for your hospitality, letting me share Christmas Eve with your family."

Anya hadn't pushed Clarke in that direction, but the f-word alone had her mother wincing for a fraction of a second, clearly chipping past those tall, sturdy walls a little bit. "It's our pleasure, dear. It's just wonderful to see you again after so long, we really should catch up. Why don't we see if we can't find time after dinner to talk? We're just a little busy right now setting some plans for the new year, but..."

"Mother, you..."

"Don't interrupt. You know better than to be rude." Her father chimed in opportunistically, shooting her a familiar stern expression that she used to cow to when she was twelve.

But they were clearly not comfortable continuing on, and that meant she had to press harder. "I was going to say that you don't have to explain that you spend time today every year planning for January and February. I just wanted you both to know that we'll be taking part in some holiday traditions, if you'd like to join us at any time."

"Darling...you _know_..." Her mother noted lowly more of a warning even if it came across on the surface as a bit of a dismissal.

"We need to do the tree here, still, and then we'll be doing some baking after dinner. Sugar cookies and gingerbread, like you, Tris, and I used to make together." Anya continued, propelled by the strength from Clarke's grip of her hand tightening.

"Of course, I have a tradition of singing carols while I bake, so we might get a little noisy, which I apologize for in advance. And then once it's all done, watching a Christmas movie...I brought Home Alone, if that's okay? You're both welcome to watch it with us." Clarke piped up, both sending her heart soaring from the support and the fact that Clarke was on her wavelength, and shattering her heart from the fact that Clarke had brought Tris' all-time favourite holiday movie.

If they'd been chipping away at her parents' defenses before, just the mention of the movie visibly stole her father's breath, the man slightly keeling forward at the reference, arm bracing his frame on the desk.

"That...that all sounds like a wonderful evening, darling." Her mother aimed at Clarke, earning an excited nod from her date. "I'm just...not sure if we can find time."

She could see her mother retreating back into her defenses, and decided to play dirty, knowing it'd make her just as vulnerable, but maybe it was necessary. For the first time in well over four years, she reached out and pulled her mother into a hug, holding her tightly, needing her to feel the divide she felt, needing her mother to want to feel that connection again.

"Please, mama. It's my last Christmas here. Our last as a family. Please. Do it for me." Anya murmured, feeling her mother's body tense, clearly uncomfortable, clearing wanting to take flight, but she wasn't budging. "Do it for _her_. She'd want this."

It was playing dirty, but her mother and father had always used Tris' death to distance themselves from her, from the idea of being a family, too hurt by the loss of a child to stand being a whole unit again when Tris was gone. It was only fair for her to use Tris to reel them in, force them to notice her, force them to acknowledge her, force them to be her mother and father again in more than just name.

"I apologize, but we're busy. It's wonderful to have you here this evening, Clarke, but we really need to get back to it." Her father stated, more or less demanding they take their leave, just in a more polite manner.

Anya reluctantly let her mother go, though the way the woman's hands lingered against her let her know that maybe her words hadn't fallen on deaf ears.

"Babe, that's the bell for the first round." Clarke whispered in her ear, advising her to try again instead of pushing. By the slightly tortured look in her father's eyes, and the budding grief across her mother's face, maybe she was onto something, letting her parents digest it a bit.

Still, Anya wouldn't be her mother's daughter without taking a parting shot here or there. "Let me know when you're able to get back to being a family together. We'll be decorating the tree."

With that, she marched out of the room before she either immolated on the spot from anger alone, or showed any weakness, knowing her parents would derail any of her efforts to focus purely on such a display instead.

She could hear Clarke following her, matching her brisk pace as she made her way to the living room and stood in front of the bare tree, trying not to scream, trying not to cry, trying not to just lash out and destroy the thing when her parents clearly couldn't care what it meant to her.

Anya had nearly forgotten Clarke was even there with her until pale arms slipped around her waist, gently pulling her back into her date's chest. "Are you okay?"

In all honesty, she could have lied, she could have brushed it off, but she needed emotional release, and if Clarke was offering, then she'd trust her. "No one's asked me that in years." Anya admitted quietly, cherishing the comforting feeling of Clarke's nose brushing against her shoulder, blonde waves tickling her neck, before continuing. "I still...I feel guilty for pushing them, for intruding, even when I know I need to. Even when I know they don't deserve how I protect them from me."

"Does it have anything to do with your sister?" Clarke asked, near enough to hitting a hole in one in that prediction.

"It has everything to do with her. With Tris." Anya answered, reluctantly unweaving the knit hands around her waist and stepping away from Clarke, over to the loveseat. She needed to sit for this.

Clarke plopped down right beside her a mere second later. "What happened?"

Anya shook her head, staring at the tall balsam fir. Tris always loved putting the star on top. In all the years since, she'd never had the heart to take that last step. It was hard to say if she could do it today. "We stopped being a family. We...we all took her death hard, but...my parents..." She started, swallowing once, twice, not quite able to keep the tears from welling in her eyes. "My parents coped far differently than me. My methods weren't great, or tremendously effective, so maybe they...maybe they were right. I tried, bit by bit, to do the things we did together, to continue the things we loved."

"That's really brave of you. That must have taken a lot of strength." Clarke reassured, even if she wasn't entirely on point with that.

"I was weak. So often, I was too weak. I'd give up halfway, I'd be incapable of seeing it through. Today....Tris loved Christmas. It was her favourite holiday, so I try to do what she loved, and every year...every year I do my best, but I can't. I just can't." Anya continued, sniffling, hating how weak she was being, even if her heart was feeling lighter by the second. "I can never put the star on the tree. I can't get past the first five minutes of Home Alone. I can only ever make the cookie dough, because she'd be so excited to roll it out and use her cookie cutters. She loved the little stocking cutters, and making me icing the names of her friends on them so she could give them away on Christmas when she'd meet up with them, and I..."

Anya tried to find the words to fully express the loss, the yearning, she felt just thinking of those attempts, at all those traditions she still wanted to share with her sister in spirit.

"You needed help. Because it wasn't just her." Clarke put out into the open, putting her conflict about as simply as she could probably put it.

She nodded, allowing her body to be carefully leaned against her date, Clarke's arm wrapping around her shoulders, fingers tracing shapes along the top of her bicep. "They hide. Every holiday, every birthday, every mother and father's day they just...they're gone. They dove into work, and when they're home, they're with each other. Pretending the world didn't fall apart, pretending there's not a hole in their heart from their dead daughter, pretending the one who's still alive is...I don't know how they see me anymore, but it's not as their daughter. They don't say my name, they don't call me their daughter. I'm only ever 'you' or 'she' or 'her', or some general term of endearment. I don't have a family anymore because they refuse to accept they have one. They work, they go on trips together, and I'm still here trying to pick up the pieces."

Anya blinked, but it wasn't enough to keep the well of tears from cracking, sending fresh trails tracking down her cheeks. "Anya, that's...that's not right."

"I know." She agreed, voice straining and choked. "I _know_ , but what could I do? The only time of the year they could ever talk to me was Christmas, and I'd be too busy trying to connect with Tris to get much of anything from them. Rest of the year...they're gone, they're shut off. I needed them."

"And you'll get them." Clarke promised, a nice enough gesture even if it was empty enough for her to actually scoff at and not feel guilty. "No, like hell if we'll let them ignore you. But no matter how this plays out? You can lean on me for all these traditions. You set the pace, you take the lead, I won't push. But I'll be here to do what you can't if you want me to, if it'll help. I'll be here for anything you need me for, okay?"

"I just...I need to know. I need to know if I already lost them, or...or if they could change at the threat of losing a daughter again. They changed after _Tris_ , so maybe...and they need to _know_ me. I need to know if we could ever be a family. If I ever get married, if they'll be there at my wedding, if I'll be going home for the holidays, if I'll be...if I'll ever be their daughter again." Anya said, recognizing just how weary she sounded, airing all of her history out. "I need to know."

The gentle kiss pressed to her temple might have had her full of elation at any other time, but in that moment, it sent a ripple of comfort through her body, knowing she had Clarke in her corner, that she wouldn't be alone in fighting for what she needed anymore.

"We're gonna find out, babe. We can press them again at dinner, right?" Clarke asked, earning a slow nod, because even if her parents generally shut her out, they would of course be present during dinner. They wouldn't shuttle food away into the den. "Then we'll get them then. For now, you let me know what to do. We've got time, so when we start decorating is entirely up to you."

The tree really was desperately bare, in need of a total overhaul. And they had enough materials to deck out two trees, really, and even with two people, it could take a little while.

Still, it was nice cuddling up with Clarke, and she still needed to let go of the residual emotions from the confrontation. "Can we just stay like this a little longer?"

"Of course, Anya. Take your time." Clarke murmured, pressing another kiss to her temple that had her melting further into her date's frame, Clarke's arm adjusting to hug her closer.

She could allow herself a few more moments of comfort before tackling the first tradition of the day.

* * *

 

"Clarke, you can't just...you... _oh my god_ stop, it's _too heavy_ for that side of the tree!" Anya called out from the other side of the fir, wrapping the tree in ropes of tinsel as Clarke tried to find a spot for a particularly heavy ornament.

"Hey, I'm doing my best here!" She shot back with a huff, trying to find a branch that might support it, but there was just something about the tree that had her thinking it could be the straw to break the camel's back.

"Clarke, you've only been decorating that one section of the tree. You need to balance it out or the tree could topple over. We're not dealing with an old growth tree, here." Anya countered, peeking out from around the other side of the tree with a smirk. "I mean no disrespect, but you're not very good at this."

Clarke walked back to the box she'd pulled the ornament from and put it back in, turning around with a huff. "I was just doing one section of the tree at a time. It helps me focus."

"Then you could do the bottom of the tree and work your way up, maybe, if that'd help? But...just _look_ at the poor thing." Anya said as she joined Clarke over by the boxes, and okay, from a distance, the tree really did look like it was doing its best Atlas impersonation, clearly weighed down and buckling where she'd focused on. It was a wonder that it hadn't cracked.

Honestly, when it came to decorating in the past, she'd always been handed the job of wrapping the tree in lights and tinsel, and only got to decorate long after the tree had been mostly decked out, so it was probably her first Christmas tree where she'd actually had to consider weight distribution. Maybe Anya did have a tiny bit of a point. Just maybe.

"Maybe we should switch roles." Clarke noted softly, shooting Anya a pout, more teasing herself than anything else really, but she watched Anya melt in two seconds flat.

It was a little absurd, given her friends and family always mocked her pout as ridiculous, over-the top, and more amusing than anything.

"No, _Clarke_ , you wanted to do this, and you _can_." Anya spoke, entirely apologetic as she lifted a hand to cup her cheek, grazing a thumb across her skin. "So come on, sugarplum. Let's balance our tree out."

Clarke couldn't help but smile at the sweetness in Anya's voice as they returned to the tree, even if the girl was clearly flustered a bit by her own words. "You fell for my pout."

"You _are_ adorable, Clarke. It'd be difficult to say no to you and that pout of yours." Anya admitted, only broadening Clarke's grin as she picked up a heavy decoration from the tree and moved to the other side to find somewhere to hang it.

"You realize you basically told me I have a get out of jail free card. Which is ridiculous, since everyone tells me my pout's laughable, but I jut my lip out and bat my lashes and you just...you _melted_ , babe." Clarke noted with amusement, hanging the ornament and moving back to reposition another.

"Ah, and if you use that pout regularly, I'll know I'm being taken advantage of." Anya stated, appearing at her side in a blink, soft lips ghosting against her cheek. "Special occasions and important moments, please, sugarplum."

It was entirely bizarre that someone could twist the kind of thing Octavia would call someone 'whipped' for into an advantage, bringing a vulnerability out into the light and trusting the other not to abuse it. And sure, a pout was hardly abusive, but she understood Anya's point. Relationships were meant to be balanced, and this was Anya laying the foundation, saying that if this went further than tonight, that she trusted Clarke not to toy with her, and that she'd be called out on it if she did.

Bizarre, perhaps, but intriguing, given most of her exes had been happy to manipulate her, and be manipulated by her.

"Deal." Clarke agreed, clasping a hand around Anya's wrist, keeping her close enough to pull into a hug, tilting her head to trace her nose down Anya's neck, pressing a feather-light kiss where it met her shoulder. "You keep being sweet and smelling amazing, and I promise I'll behave."

Clarke expected a reaction of some kind. Maybe laughter, maybe a joke about her behaving, given she was known to prank her friends sometimes, maybe some affirmation that Anya would buy into that deal. It took her a few seconds to realize that her date was breathing in a very distinctly measured way, which was only made clearer when she leaned away to see how red-faced Anya was, eyes closed and breathing calmly despite her fairly tense posture.

"Anya, did...was that too much?" She asked, wondering if maybe she'd moved too fast in response to Anya kissing her cheek.

"It's...no. I've just...I've never been kissed by a girl before. I'm overwhelmed, but I'll be fine." Anya explained slowly, fumbling for the right words.

Maybe she should have expected as much, truthfully. Anya had asked for her help in coming out, saying none of her friends could do the job. She should have put two and two together and figured Anya was entirely inexperienced instead of just not having someone willing to come out with her.

"I'll be more careful, okay? If I can ease you into all this, I will." Clarke stated, watching Anya's face soften at her words, the girl taking in one last calming breath before opening her eyes and giving her a nod. "Going forward, if I feel like being extra affectionate, I can ask permission, give you time to prepare?"

"That might help for the first few times, yes. Thank you." Anya answered simply, looking away with nervous eyes, biting down at her lip. "I apologize for the burden."

Clarke pulled Anya back in tight for a hug, figuring that was already acceptably familiar. "You're not a burden. It's okay to be overwhelmed and need some time to process, I was the exact same way. I know the closer my partner was to my face, the more I'd freeze up, the more it'd feel like my heart was about to explode out of my chest."

"It's...strange to feel so _excited_ and _happy_ and feel like you're about to have a heart attack from it." Anya agreed, nodding into her hair, the girl's slight height advantage in her heels making the embrace feel a bit more familiar, if more special with how Anya described how she felt.

"Would it help if I limited my kissing to your hands and wrists for now, until you feel ready for more?" She asked, feeling Anya hesitate in her arms before giving a second slow nod.

"I...it still thrills me to think about it, but I think I'd bear it better, for now, at least." Anya stated, solidifying her plan of action on that front, to make Anya feel more comfortable, more at ease.

The girl already had enough stress to deal with. Anya didn't need to have any more heaped on by her kisses.

"Well, for now, our hands have more important things to do, like finishing up this tree. Let's get back to work." Clarke said, giving Anya one last gentle squeeze before stepping away, immediately missing how good the girl smelled up close.

From there, things went decently quickly. She'd occasionally find Anya rearranging some of her ornaments as she wrapped the rest of the tree with the tinsel ropes, with a bit more rearranging once Anya got to just dusting the tree in free-hanging tinsel. Ultimately, though, once Anya was done, Clarke was just finishing up, with just a few things left to go.

"I'll be right back!" Clarke called out as she scurried off towards the dining room, grabbing a set of chairs. She could smell the food, and hear plenty of activity in the kitchen, so they were definitely running out of time.

When she got back to the living room, Anya was staring up at the tree with clear apprehension. She needed to trick her way around that, and hopefully her plan would work. "Okay, babe, so we've got a few things left, they're just high up and I can't reach on my own. Wanna take your heels off and come help me out? You'd know where to put the stuff better than me."

She quickly set the chairs up beneath the large empty space she'd left up near the top, forcing them to get a little help vertically to reach there with any stability or accuracy. Thankfully, her words shook Anya from her daze, and the girl quickly slipped out of her heels and stepped up onto one of the chairs, letting Clarke follow her up onto the one beside it.

"Red bauble." She noted, handing Anya the ornament, just barely waiting long enough for Anya to hang it properly before shooting off another and handing the girl the next. "Silver candy canes."

"Check." Anya spoke as she hung the second ornament, hand out, ready for the next.

"Mouse in a thimble."

"Check."

"Green bauble."

"Check."

"Miniature sleigh."

"Check."

"Silver bells."

" _Silver bells_..." Anya sang quietly as she hung the items up, hand out waiting for the next.

"It's Christmas time, in the city..." Clarke added on, maybe not having as lovely of a voice, but it wasn't important, not while she was handing Anya the star with one hand, other hand ready.

Anya's arm lifted, getting the star maybe four inches from the top when the girl froze. Clarke carefully brought her hand up, placing it on Anya's forearm. "I've got you. And you've got this, okay? Just a few more inches, a few seconds of courage, babe." She whispered, ignoring the clacking sound getting louder, deciding to just focus purely on Anya, needing her to know she wasn't alone, that she could do this.

Tears budded in Anya's eyes, the arm holding the star trembled, but millimeter by millimeter, the star got closer to its destination, until Anya dropped it onto the top, her hand coming away like it'd been burned, immediately resting over her heart as her breathing quickened.

Clarke immediately stepped down from the chair and rushed to the other side of Anya's, offering her hand. "Let's get you down from there, Anya."

Anya nodded quickly, teeth descending hard into her lip as a few tears streaked down her cheeks. As soon as both of Anya's feet were on the ground, Clarke found herself wrapped up in a tight hug, Anya's hitched breaths wafting against her ear, the girl's trembling body pressing against hers. "Anya, you were so brave, babe. I'm so proud of you. The tree is beautiful."

"It is?" Anya cried, burying her face in Clarke's side-swept waves, only clutching tighter at her shoulder blades.

"She would have loved it."

That honestly was a sentiment she'd considered speaking, but the breathless awe in Mrs. Pine's thick, strained voice did it far more justice than she ever could have hoped for.

Clarke opened her eyes, spotting the older women lingering at the entrance to the living room, appearing more than a little shaken. "Dinner will be served in a few minutes. If...if the both of you would clean up..." Mrs Pine continued quickly, making off before Anya could even think to let go and talk to her.

Still, it seemed like a good sign. Anya's plan was well underway, and at least one of her parents seemed rattled and vulnerable. Given that was what her date was aiming for, it had to be a good thing.

She only hoped that dinner would cast more light on whether Anya's parents would be at her side or not. It'd been a hard enough day for Anya, all she wanted was for the girl to have all the support she could ask for with her traditions, and to end the night feeling relaxed and loved.

The tree was done. Only three major things left to do now.

* * *

 

_She would have loved it._

Those five words echoed in her mind, repeating and repeating, like a creature in a cage slamming into the walls in a fruitless attempt to escape. It was the first time her mother had spoken about Tris since her death. Those words weren't going away any time soon.

_She would have loved it._

Tris honestly would have. When she'd stepped back to get a good look from a distance, it was clear as day how much her little sister would have been beaming at the sight of it. She always loved a big, bright tree full to the brim with decorations and lights, twinkling at all angles from all the tinsel. All that was missing were the pile of presents beneath it, but they weren't really a family anymore, haven't been for a while. There wouldn't be any unwrapping on Christmas Day, but maybe next year.

_She would have loved it._

It hurt her heart to hear the words as much as it uplifted her, knowing her mother was hurting much as she was, knowing she'd dragged her mother to a painful headspace and forced her to recognize what they once were, what they once had. As hard as it all was, she really did hope dinner would lead to some sort of change or revelation outside of her own plans.

Like, for instance, her parents saying three simple words that she hadn't heard for the past nearly five years.

Anya shook the outlandish hope from her head and got back to re-applying her makeup, knowing her mother could criticize her if it was anything but perfect, so she couldn't afford handing them an easy distraction.

Unfortunately, stabbing herself in the eye with her mascara wand only ended up distracting herself. She clamped down on the vulgar words on the tip of her tongue, letting out an annoyed grunt instead.

"Oh, babe, let me do that, you just keep your pretty face still." Clarke said, gently prodding her back to sit on her stool. And while Anya knew she could get it done, her hands _were_ trembling, and it was a kind gesture. That, and well, her eye stung.

"I'm so nervous." She admitted, taking a hard swallow as Clarke fixed her concealer. Her eyes were a little puffy from crying, but not so much that her mother would notice from a distance. "This might be it."

"I'm hopeful. Just positive thoughts from here on out, okay? It's gonna be fine." Clarke said, and maybe a few hours ago she wouldn't have believed her, but it was different now. Maybe it wasn't a lock, but there was at least hope now.

And hope felt pretty dang good after the last few years of losing it.

"Just...please don't let me back down if I get too nervous." Anya asked, bringing Clarke to a halt at the bathroom door. 

"I promise, Anya." Clarke noted, shooting her a bright smile even as her eyes kept darting between her face and her arm. "May...may I kiss you for good luck?"

Anya felt her heart-rate spike as she stared at the beautiful, caring girl before her. They had time, she knew her parents would wait, and after so long, they could maybe wait a few more seconds. She mustered a small nod.

Clarke's fingers were a little clumsy, fumbling with her hand for a brief moment or two before bringing it up near her lips, carefully rotating her grip to press a kiss to Anya's knuckles, softly lingering, leaving a faint smear of Clarke's passion fruit lip butter behind. Well, that and the ensuing full-body tingle of exhilaration that came with Clarke kissing her for the second time.

Maybe her knees felt a little weak. Maybe she was blushing about as red as Rudolph's nose. But maybe she was happier than she'd felt in a long time and just wanted to cherish that for a while, which was why she gently took hold of Clarke's hand and led her out to the dining room.

It truly made much more sense to use the table in the kitchen, it being much smaller and appropriate for the amount of people, but her parents did enjoy their distance. It wasn't surprising to see the place settings had been shifted around.

Not that it mattered, Anya quickly scooping up the plates and cutlery, moving her and Clarke's seats down to table to where her parents were set up. Her father adjacent at the head, her mother across, leaving Clarke seated at her side.

As soon as she had their seats set up, she made her way into the kitchen to where her parents were, surveying the scene. Everything smelled fantastic as usual, but she didn't let it distract her as she grabbed the bowls of veggies and cranberry sauce and brought them out to the table. Clarke seemed to have the same idea, bringing the stuffing and potatoes out. Her parents weren't far behind, bringing the turkey, ham, and gravy out not long after.

"This all smell so delicious. Thank you so much again for letting me share the day with your family." Clarke announced once they were all settled, immediately setting the kind of tone Anya had hoped to initially try for. It seemed it was easier for her parents to shut her out than be impolite to a guest.

"You're too kind, dear, we're happy to have you over." Mrs Pine said with typical graciousness, before turning her gaze slightly to Anya. "It's...so nice to know she has such a good friend."

The acknowledgement honestly came as a bit of a shock, especially with how reticent her father appeared to be. Only would have been more stunning if her mother would have said her name or referred to her as her daughter. The two of them had always been a team, a well-oiled machine when it came to matters of the family, matters involving her. Always distant, always a united front.

Apparently not today.

Anya behaved herself as her father led the table in saying grace, even as the food was being passed around. However, as soon as that familiar silence fell upon the room, she knew she had to speak up, had to keep momentum.

"So, Clarke, what's your family planning for tomorrow?" Anya asked, deciding to take a bit of an indirect route, knowing her parents wouldn't be talking much at all during the meal, so she could ramp things up accordingly.

"Oh, um, we're probably going to have a bit of a lazy day. I mean, with mom coming off a long on-call shift, dad finishing up a hectic six day consult trip? We'll probably just loaf around the house. Maybe we'll watch some movies and do some more baking before we sit down to roll the dice on spring break." Clarke answered, shooting her a curious look at the end there that had her thinking Clarke had a bit of a plan of her own.

"You'll all deserve a good rest, it's been a long year. But 'roll the dice'?" Anya asked, deciding to give this plot a chance.

"Well, I'll be moving away to New York for school in the summer, and as much as a wild Florida getaway holds some appeal for Spring Break, we've been planning a family vacation given it's my last hurrah before I move out. The last few months, we've picked out some choices, and then we'll....roll the dice and figure out where we'll be going." Clarke explained, clearly playing on the fact that her parents wet on getaways often enough, but not family ones.

Anya forked another chunk of turnip and smiles back at Clarke. "That sounds really great! We haven't had a family outing like that in a long time, I'm sure you all will have a good time."

"I'm glad you think so. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure we will, but my parents love taking any and every opportunity to embarrass me, it's like a mission for them." Clarke said with a laugh. "Anyways, we usually go on one or two trips a year, and my parents are always looking for others to join, maybe cut the costs in getting a bigger place? I could always have them contact you guys when we figure out where we'll be going?"

Anya was deeply surprised that it took her father nearly two seconds to shake the shock and respond. "I...well, sweetheart, we'll have to check our schedules. We're busy, after all."

"You can't be _that_ busy if you and mother are taking trips to Paris, San Sebastian, Canouan, Lanai, Bocas del Toro, Cabo, and London all in the past year. I'm sure you could swing the week of spring break with three month's notice if you needed to." Anya chimed in, leveling her father with a hard stare, for once actually seeing him squirm a little before her mother tried bailing him out.

"March is a very difficult month for us. It'd be difficult to find the time. We both have responsibilities." Her mother added, trying to support her husband, but only really giving her another thread to pull.

Anya finished eating her mouthful of turkey before shooting her mother her best reassuring smile. "I understand completely. Your responsibilities must have been so draining for you. I don't blame either of you for not being there when I made the decision to apply to Columbia for English instead of Business Management. Some decisions have to be..."

"You did _what_?" Her father interrupted, voice escaping him with that familiar cold, calm anger.

"I decided to focus on English. Having the both of you as my parents, I saw what a life in business could do to me if I ever have a family, and I'd want to be able to spend time with them. It was the logical decision." She stated, rather happy with the delivery of the lie, even if she _had_ paid for an extra admission to NYU for English as a bit of a wildcard possibility.

Her father was about as tense as she'd seen him in the past few years, looking seconds from slamming his hands down on the table. "You know business is a more secure career path. We have connections, you'd get where you wanted to be." He stated slowly and firmly.

"Don't blame the career track, _please_. It isn't as if we've never had time for you, darling. Maybe we haven't been ideal parents with our balancing act, but we raised you well, we took care of you, we spent...we..." Her mother added on, struggling with her words, Anya figuring that line of thought must have led the woman down a dark path.

"You spent weeknights with me. You were always home by six, and you'd always sit us down and do something together. We'd always go on a walk on the weekends, and you'd always find some way to teach me something new. And...and father, you always left Sundays clear for us. When we got back from church, that was _our_ time. No phones, no emails, no scheduling, just _us_." Anya spoke, voice shaking with all the pent of rage and woe from five years of loneliness and neglect. "So _what happened_?"

Her voice may have come out weakly, but in the dead silence of the dining room, it may as well have been noisy as a drill by the way her parents winced and recoiled.

"You know what happened." Her mother whispered, head bowing as her father's fork and knife clattered against the table, the man turning his gaze towards the kitchen as his jaw clenched.

"Yeah, Tris died." Anya let out, swallowing hard and working to keep her trembling jaw steady, trying to keep the burning liquid at her eyes from spilling over. "She died, and it was meaningless, and horrible, and soul-destroying, but we're still a family! You still have a daughter! I'm still here!"

The feel of Clarke's hand on her thigh took what wavering strength she had from her outburst and boosted it, only blooming in intensity as her father met her gaze, eyes glassy, speaking another of his useless words. "Sweetheart..."

"No! You two ran away and left me scrambling to figure out how to wrap my head around something so cruel and senseless and heartbreaking. And...and you didn't have to have the answers for me! We could have just grieved _together_ , but you ran off, and left me here, and you won't even say my _name_! It's been _years_!" Anya yelled, blinking through her tears, knowing they'd come out anyways, but she had to look her parents in the eyes. "I grew up thinking I had the most amazing parents in the world, and the best sister I could ask for, and then in a blink of an eye, I'd lost _all three_ of you!"

Her mother lifted her head, finally meeting her gaze, tear-stained cheeks and remorse meeting her head-on. "It's okay to hate us, love. It's our fault, we didn't protect her." Her mother cried, voice trembling like a leaf in the middle of an autumn storm. Half of her felt victorious that she finally got a reaction from them. The other half wanted to rush around the table and hug her mother, wanting to fix their delusion.

"I never blamed _you_. I never hated you for her death. It was an _accident_." Anya repeated, needing her mother and father to know where she stood, hoping it might make a difference. "All I needed was my family, what was left of it. I...I still had so much left to learn. I still needed you both. Even now, I still need you."

Through tears, she could barely make out the details, but her father seemed stricken by her words, even as her mother's eyes only got wider. "You can't possibly believe that."

"How could I _not_? How..." Anya started, before shifting gears, feeling the fight draining out of her at a rapid pace. "I need you both to stop the self-pity and realize you have a daughter who still needs you, and who still loves you even if that might be foolish of me. I need to know what the rest of my life will be like, if you're going to be in it, because I _want_ you to be, but I can't _make_ you be there at my graduation this spring. I can't make you come visit me in New York on the occasional weekend. I can't make you answer my phone-calls about school, and work, and life, and love. I can't make you be there to celebrate with me when I get _engaged_ , and I can't make you be there when I marry my future _wife_."

Honestly, she'd truly meant to have a more isolated, topic-specific talk where she'd out herself, but the cat was out of the bag by how quickly her mother's mouth gaped, how her father's head turned, wide wet eyes staring at her.

No turning back, she pushed through it, swallowing her tears and speaking despite the clear trembling of her voice. "I can't make you be there when we start a family of our own. I can't make you give me advice when I get pregnant, or adopt, or just...have children of my own, even if I know I'd really want it with how you raised me and Tris. I couldn't make you be in their lives. I can't make you open your doors for family holidays here, or make you come to mine. I...I can't make you do _anything_ , as the last five years have made perfectly clear." She continued, wiping at her eyes and letting out a wet sigh. "Just know that I'd _want_ you there with me every step of the way. Despite everything, I _still_ want you. So maybe...maybe you two figure out if you want _me_ , because if you don't, I'll be gone by New Year's. You won't have to deal with me ever again."

With that, she pushed back her seat and stood up, staring woefully at her meal. "I apologize, but I've lost my appetite. I think I need some air."

She shot Clarke a glance, met with understanding eyes and a soft smile, letting her know it'd be okay to rush off alone, that her date would handle it without her for a little while until she regained composure.

For better or worse, she'd put her cards on the table. She'd cracked them open, poked at their insides, and laid her case out for the both of them to see. There wasn't anything more she could do but hope they'd come back to her. If they were anywhere near as lost as she was, they could all finally heal together.

If not, she'd gained a new friend in Clarke, at the least, and had a room at Lexa's home reserved for her just in case.

It was just a matter of time, really. She'd know soon enough.

* * *

 

Anya's father had marched off about five seconds flat after Anya had gone, leaving her with her date's sobbing mother. To say it was the most awkward and depressing Christmas Eve dinner in her lifetime would have been an understatement.

Honestly, it was hard to sympathize with Anya's parents after what they did. Grief could twist and torment people in terrible ways, but it didn't strip them of responsibility. They'd failed Anya, and in her date's shoes, she probably would have used the dinner to bid her farewell instead of pitching for a save.

Didn't mean she didn't admire the hell out of Anya for trying, for not giving up.

Besides, even if the dinner was awkward, it was still damned tasty. For all their faults, Anya's parents could cook a mean meal.

Clarke had offered to handle the dishes, spouting the 'cooks don't clean' mantra, which was probably for the best, given Anya's mom looked like she needed to have a good cry into a pillow and maybe a small glass of wine or three. Besides, the stuff in need of deep cleaning could be done in the dishwasher, leaving the few more delicate items for hand washing, which took all of ten minutes.

Once that was all done, Clarke went and got the bags she'd brought from home, pulling out the small cooler that hosted all the cookie dough she'd made the previous evening, along with the rest of her baking equipment.

Unsure when Anya would be ready to come back, she brought out one of the wrapped packs of gingerbread and put it on the counter as she got prepped, bringing out the flour, her rolling pin, the gingerbread man cookie cutters, and her trusty spatula.

"I was told there would be singing."

Clarke's head spun around to the doorway, catching Anya leaning against it, looking a bit wiped, but visibly relieved. She let out a laugh as she jogged over to her date, throwing her arms around Anya's waist.

"I couldn't start singing without you. Needed my duet partner, I think we'd sound good together." Clarke joked as she gave Anya a happy squeeze, so proud of the girl for standing up to her parents and coming out.

"There is no 'we', I'm not going to sing." Anya shot back, grinning against her cheek. "You'll have to do that alone, sugarplum."

"Oh come on, your voice is great! I heard you singing silver bells..."

"I _murmured_ it."

"...and those three syllables really channeled the festive spirit..."

"Hardly."

"...which is _exactly_ what I need from my baking buddy. They can't be Christmas cookies if you don't infuse them with Christmas cheer!" Clarke argued, and while she knew she'd back off if Anya put her foot down, she really did like the idea of having a singing partner. None of her mom, her dad, Octavia, or Raven would ever join her in that tradition.

Anya let out a sigh so lengthy that Clarke honestly wondered about the girl's lung capacity. "Fine. But don't expect me to be enthusiastic. You get what you get."

Clarke spun out of Anya's embrace, springing her arms out to the side in excitement as she twirled around. "It's a Christmas miracle!"

"I suppose that means you'll be enthusiastic enough for the both of us." Anya mused openly as she moved to the kitchen counter, looking over the slab of dough. "Gingerbread?"

"I thought we could do that first? Your call on what you want to do...roll and cut, or icing." Clarke offered, arriving at Anya's side just in time to see some indecision on her face.

"I usually put the icing on and decorate the cookies..." Anya said quietly, staring intensely at the rolling pin. "But...maybe I could handle rolling duties? Someone in this family should."

Clarke slung an arm around Anya's waist, maybe letting her hand give the slightest bit of a rub. "You got it, babe. You let the icing queen work her magic."

Anya laughed, but it was kind of true. With all the stress-baking she'd done in her life, combined with her passion for art, Clarke had spent plenty of time making some damn fine decorative cookies. Of course, the goal with their batches was to make sure that the cookies weren't too pretty to eat, but it wasn't like she couldn't make them to where someone might waffle a little on that decision.

"So...how do we start things off?"

Truth be told, Anya was true to her word, not the most enthusiastic singer, though the girl did break a smile on a few of the standards, even if she wasn't quite as spirited in the duet of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town'. Still, it was pretty great to have someone to sing with for once during her tradition, and Anya was a good sport, the both of them singing along and churning out cookies left and right. Besides, without any real talking, the simple company really seemed to help loosen Anya up and lighten her heart a bit given the day's events. And really, it was hard to have a bad time baking cookies.

Her designs were simple, given the limited selection of icing, but she made the most of it. By the time Anya finished clean-up duties, Clarke only had three left to decorate, and her favourite Christmas song was finally coming on, signaling the end of her playlist. Not that she wouldn't just start it again, of course.

"I don't want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need..." She sang softly, focusing on the cookie in front of her as she finished the elaborate design for the bell-shaped snack. Clarke didn't really notice how close Anya was until the girl was practically right beside her, hands in her blonde waves, fiddling with her hair.

With Anya pulling away a chunk of stray icing, soft lips spreading into a mirthful smile, maybe it had Clarke splitting her focus a little for once, playing along with the song and shooting her date a few flirty glances and gestures. Not that she probably didn't look like a huge mess with icing in her hair and on her face, but it was the thought that counted, and Anya did say that she found her messy side endearing.

Anya's smile didn't fade, though the girl did gesture at her dress, or perhaps her lap, a quick hint to maybe brush off some of the mess, even if it'd only mess up the floor instead. Once clear of stray clumps of icing or sprinkles, she gave a playful come hither gesture that, oddly enough, did draw Anya closer, and closer, until suddenly Anya planted herself sideways on her lap.

"I won't ask for much this Christmas, I won't even wish for snow...and I just wanna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe..." Anya sang, soft and quiet, as if only for her, those warm brown eyes gazing right into her own with a glimmer of something that looked a lot like hope.

And maybe she could be a little slow to the take with some cues, but this one seemed like a bright neon sign. Even still, after everything before, she had to mouth a simple 'may I?', earning a smooth nod from her duet partner.

As she brought a hand around the back of Anya's neck, angling towards the beautiful girl sharing her breath, maybe it was okay for her singing tradition to take a premature end; after all, the baking _was_ over.

Anya's lips descended on her like first snow of the season, a little cool and stiff at first blink, but like a blanket of wonder as it settles. It made sense, Anya's inexperience and all, but the way her date's lips pressed against her, the way she held her close, Anya's signature scent surrounding her like a blanket, the way her date's warmth covered her as she sat in that chair, it all had her feeling blissful and as cozy as a cup of cocoa by the fire.

Clarke just held on, noses brushing, pulling Anya close, drinking her in as she tasted her over and over. She'd been looking forward to a tasty sugar cookie, but in that moment, Anya was giving her all she could have wanted.  

Maybe it was a little late to make a Christmas wish, but honestly, she would be very happy to just stay right where she was for a long damn time. By the happy moans and whimpers coming from Anya, it was a good bet her date felt the same.

Still, maybe it was tacky, but when the opportunity presented itself, some of the song managing to reach her ears past the sensory overload of kissing Anya, she pulled away enough to finally catch a breath for her aching lungs.

"Baby, all I want for Christmas is _you_." She didn't even try to sing it, still breathing heavily enough to make speaking difficult as it was, but there was nothing wrong with being a little sappy.

The blooming redness at Anya's cheeks was a good sign that her date appreciated that much. "Are you serious right now?" Anya let out with a laugh, peppering a pair of fleeting kisses to her lips.

"I _love_ this song." Clarke insisted, grinning into another breath-stealing kiss that lingered long enough to leave her body aching for more. "Make my wish come true?"

The sensation of Anya's teeth tugging at her lower lip was a little distracting, but when she leaned her head away far enough, her message was read loud and clear by the roll of Anya's eyes, the smile tugging at her lips. "Are...are you asking me to come over tomorrow?"

"Think of it as a second date? Only if you can swing it, of course. I just figure we've got a lot of cookies to get through, and my house has a really nice couch, and a really warm fireplace, and my parents always spend the evening walking around to see the lights. I'll be home all by my lonesome." Clarke noted, bringing her pout out to play, or for Anya to dip forward and bring her in for a brief kiss.

"Put that away, sugarplum, it's dangerous. But what, have you no sense of adventure?" Anya asked, settling into her arms, nose nuzzling against her temple.

It was an entirely different thrill to have Anya feeling so comfortable being intimate with her, no less gratifying or lovely than kissing her. "Are you kidding? Babe, I've gone on seven different walks this month to catch the lights around the city. I love looking at all the pretty houses...but I think I'd rather curl up with you for a little while tomorrow evening, if you're up for it?"

Clarke could see the yearning in Anya's eyes even as the girl hesitated. "I...it's just...I..."

"Anya, my dearest, it's discourteous to leave a suitor waiting."

* * *

 

Anya fell catatonic at the sudden sound of her mother's voice, body stiff in her date's arms, head turning achingly slowly to face the surprising interruption, the second of its kind that day. "Mama?" Anya let out in a breath, voice barely audible, the only movement she seemed capable of was the slight tremble of her jaw.

If there was one thing she absolutely knew to be true, it was that she and her mother should not have a major heart to heart with her perched on Clarke's lap like a lover might be. It was just entirely inappropriate to remain there, and not really conducive to a quality dialogue, so when Clarke carefully scooted their chair away from the table a bit, bringing a hand to Anya's hip to seemingly help her get to her feet, she was tremendously thankful.

"Baby, why don't you go have that talk with your mom, okay?" Clarke asked, seemingly to immediately regret her words, though her expression softened in short order. Anya was blushing red as a beet from the endearment; even if they weren't actually girlfriends, even if Clarke didn't entirely mean it, it was still partially sincere, and public.

It was an entirely new experience, and Anya found she enjoyed it, even if she hadn't expected to check off the ' _Likes PDAs_ ' box about herself given her general discomfort of them in the past. By the soft realization on Clarke's face, she wondered if she might experience more over the next few hours.

Anya was slow to move off her lap, but with some help she was on her feet after a few long seconds, making one tentative step after another towards her mother. "Did...did you think about what I said?"

"It's all I _could_ think about. And if you've taught me anything tonight, it's that Christmas truly is the time of year where people should come together and embrace each other. I would _love_ to spend time together as a family tomorrow if you're willing, but...my darling Anya, you deserve to be _happy_. When a wonderful person comes along who makes you happy, you shouldn't pass up that opportunity for anything." Her mother answered, stepping closer and taking hold of both of Anya's hands. "Everything you talked about...I want to be there with you. I've missed so much, and...and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that if you let me. Part of that is advising you to spend an _evening_ with your lovely _girlfriend_ , especially on a day where you deserve all the love and support in the world. Certainly more than just the sadness that will hang over our heads here. Tris would want us to be happy, so at least one of us should be."

Honestly, after all the baking and singing, after the dinnertime rant, after the emotional tree decorating, Anya's brain was fried. So maybe it took a few extra seconds to parse what her mother had said.

That she still wanted to be a family. That she wanted her to be happy. That she wanted her to spend time with Clarke.

As much as her soul soared at the revelations, she couldn't help but stick on that last bit. "You...you're okay with me being...being a lesbian?" She managed to get out, needing confirmation on a lot of things, and figuring that that would be a quicker one to get some certainty about.

Her mother's face tilted to the right in that same familiar way it would whenever her mom would find something she said endearing enough to tease her. "Oh, _of course_. I...do I think you would have an easier life if you were attracted to men? Of course, but you love who you love, and I would never ask to you be someone you're not, or feel something you don't. It wouldn't be right." Her mother answered easily, bringing one hand up to hesitantly caress Anya's cheek. The simple touch was comfort a long time coming, and she couldn't help but lean into it. "And darling, you two are...you're both _radiant_. I couldn't be happier for you."

Laughter had already been bubbling up inside of her from the sheer relief and thrill of her mother's acceptance, but the thought of her mother calling an icing-covered Clarke 'radiant' was more than enough to force the laughter out of her as she peeked over her shoulder at her date. "She is, isn't she?"

Clarke, clearly having heard the remark, pulled a piece of icing from her hair, popped it in her mouth, and shot her a wink. "You're both _too kind_. But I just finished icing these cookies, so if you don't mind, I think I'll clean up and prep the rec room for the movie, if that's alright?" Clarke asked as she approached, her hair, dress, and face sprinkled with globs and smears of icing.

"Of course, Clarke. And...thank you. For everything today." Anya let out, needing Clarke to know she was endlessly thankful, that their combined strength is what made it all possible.

"You don't have to thank me, Anya. I told you we'd get through this together, and I meant it. Nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you, babe, okay?" Clarke spoke, bright blue eyes gazing intensely at her, sending her heart fluttering when Clarke angled in and pressed a feather soft kiss to the corner of her lips. "So is that a yes to you coming over tomorrow?"

Anya rolled her eyes even as her face felt aflame from the kiss, smiling at Clarke's forwardness. Perhaps if they ever managed enough dates to be official, she'd return the favor. "Yes. I'd love to."

She watched Clarke flash her a bright smile and spin on her heel, slowly making her way out of the kitchen; Anya imagined it was sort of difficult to saunter on a hardwood floor while wearing fuzzy socks with no significant friction, but Clarke certainly tried. She deserved an A for effort at the least.

"Anya, darling, you're staring." Her mom said, breaking Anya from her daze enough to realize Clarke was long gone. "Of course, I don't blame you, young love and all..."

"...but it's impolite." Anya finished for her mother, knowing where the woman was going with her advice. And it was sound; it'd be a bad habit to pick up, so best to shake it early on. "She's just amazing."

Her mother's laughter, her actual honest to god sincere laughter, immediately grabbed her attention. "That shouldn't be news to you. I may be getting older, but in hindsight, you've always looked at Clarke like she was special. After what I've seen of you two today, I certainly won't doubt that she's a very special young woman."

Anya wanted to agree, wanted to talk at length; it'd be fruitless to lie to her mother, after all, the woman could sniff out a lie of hers from a mile away. However, the truth was very different than the illusion they were giving off. "We're still new."

"I can tell, but it isn't as if you've just met. You've known each other for years, to an extent. Enough to know her character. I knew your father for six years before we dated, and I knew ninety percent of what there was to know about him before our first date. I knew he was special...I just had to find a way for him to notice me." Her mother countered, shutting down any and all claims she might make about not being incredibly into Clarke, about not being remotely invested. "I would love to hear how you two got together sometime, if you felt comfortable."

Anya could only shrug as she gestured back towards the table. "Clarke tells it better than I do. Our history is...complicated, to say the least." Anya answered, unsure exactly how to tell her mother about them without lying to her. Perhaps Clarke would be able to pull it off. For now, she'd sit down adjacent to her mother, and focus on one question that had been lingering ever since her mother entered the kitchen. "Do you know how father feels about...about all of this?"

Her mother reached a hand across the table to her, and she could hardly deny herself the comfort. "Your father is a very typical man. You know he always hates showing emotion in public, so he...well, he's in the bedroom. He'll be there until he feels ready to come down and speak with you, but he loves you. He wants you to be happy, and while he didn't explicitly say as much, I could tell he was pleased you're dating Clarke. He always did like the Griffins."

"But...is he on board about...does he want to be a family again?" Anya asked, trying to find the right words to ask a question that shouldn't need asking, but it was necessary. She needed to know.

"Your father might need some time to adjust, but...I believe he does want us to be a family again. More than anything. He just...doesn't know how, and that makes it difficult for him." Her mother explained, and Anya had to bite down on a few scathing remarks she had lined up, because it wasn't hard. At least, she didn't think it was.

"What does that even mean? How does he not know how? He was my father for years before Tris died." Anya argued, watching as her mother's face fell, the woman's head slumping forward to an uncharacteristic degree given her mother's usually perfect posture.

"Losing Tris changed everything. Your father and I...we've always been rather proud, and I suppose it'd be fair to say our pride was our downfall. We took her death to heart, and we blamed ourselves relentlessly for it." Her mother spoke, repeating that ridiculous idea that they were to blame when it was an accident. Anya chose to just let it slide, at least for now. "You have to understand, her absence felt like a brand, marking us as unworthy parents. We agonized over what we could have done differently, and in the end, we failed to find an answer that didn't condemn ourselves. Those were the first few days of our grieving."

Anya gave her mother's hand a squeeze, seeing the tears brimming at her eyes. As much as her parents had neglected her, she couldn't help but care for them. It was always hard to watch her mother cry. "And so what, you just gave up?"

Her mother pulled out a kerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "In a word, I suppose we did. We had no answers, and it wasn't getting any easier. Your father dove into work first, and left without him to talk to, I did the same. That...it didn't help, but it provided a very different baseline, a different schedule. Eventually, certain times of the day, certain days of the week, they lost those meanings we built. That felt freeing...and Gus just...I still loved him. And he loved me. If we couldn't be parents, then we could still be something to each other. That was selfish of us, we realized that not so long after, but by then it'd been over a year since Tris' death."

Anya soaked in the details as an image of what happened became a little clearer, if no less absurd. "And here I was, still alive, still breathing, still going about my day to day."

"You seemed better off. You'd found a new family in the junior cheer squad, and spent much of your time at the Woods household. You had friends, and older role models in our place, and all we knew was that in our grief, we'd lost everything but each other. We lost Tris, and then our failings had cost us our eldest daughter as well. You ask if we'd want a family back...darling, we thought we'd lost any right to you long ago, regardless of what we might have wanted." Her mother explained, letting out a heavy sigh. "Foolish, perhaps, but...we thought if we let you go down the path you'd been set on, and gave you every opportunity at success, that maybe one day, if we were lucky enough, you'd come back into our lives and maybe we'd have a chance at having out daughter back."

It all honestly shattered the rest of the image of her perfect parents she used to believe in, but at least she had answers now. At least she understood why they did what they did, even if that was still the height of absurdity. "You realize you're still my legal guardians? That I haven't been emancipated? You can't just decide you've lost me without telling me! I spent years thinking that you couldn't look at me, that you couldn't speak my name, that you entirely avoided me because you didn't _want_ me! That you two were pretending to be childless again so you could live as if I didn't exist, that I was just some girl you'd occasionally run into instead of your daughter."

"Oh, _Anya_..." Her mother murmured sadly, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"And I get that that's not how you actually felt, but that's what I thought for years, and it still _hurts_. And I tried to talk with you two about it, but you refused to actually talk with me, you'd just shut me out. We _need_ to talk, and we need to _communicate_ , and this shouldn't have been all on me. I trusted you two to be my parents...I still want you in my life, but you both have a lot of work to do to earn that trust back. I can't pretend it didn't happen or that I don't still need to heal from it." Anya ranted, barely managing to keep her composure as she laid out their future prospects.

"I promise. I will spend the rest of my life making it up..." Her mother started, and while she knew the woman had good intentions, she could see the remorse and determination clearly across her face, that wasn't what she was asking for.

Anya held up a hand, surprised when her mother's voice stilled. "I don't need you to make up for the past. You _can't_. I just need you to be better. Better parents, better communicators, better people. I need good people in my life. People I can count on and trust."

"And that's why I'll be speaking with the board of directors to transition my role at work to a part-time consulting position." Her mother stated quickly, forcing Anya's jaw to drop at the assertion, knowing her mother's dedication to her career was something of legend even before Tris passed. "You deserve at least one parent with a flexible schedule. Your father's locked into his position for the next two years, but I'm not under any such restraints. Having time off to spend with you, and to figure out who I am outside of my work again...you made me realize how much I need to find myself again. I might not have a clue about how I'll do that, but...I want to. I want to be able to visit you at University whenever you want. I want to be able to take your calls no matter the hour. I...when you've felt I've earned it, I'd like to find new traditions for us. I can't do any of that working seventy or more hours a week."

Anya knew she wasn't a child anymore, she could never go back to that time when she and Tris and her parents had all those special moments and traditions together. However, the idea of something new, unmarred from their history, something they could build together? That held a lot of appeal. "New traditions? I...I think I'd love that. At least when we're all ready."

Her mother placed her other hand atop their knit pair. "We have so much to talk about, Anya. So much catching up to do on our part, and...perhaps some actual healthy grieving, if we can manage it. But maybe we can leave that for tomorrow." Her mother spoke, shooting her a warm smile that reminded her of how it felt to come home as a child. "You have a wonderful young woman waiting for you a few rooms over, and the rest of the night ahead of you. I think we could both use some time to collect our thoughts and reflect, and you deserve to not have to waste the latter part of your date in here with me when you could be out there enjoying yourself with Clarke."

Anya let out a sigh, but she saw her mother's point, and she really did want to get back to Clarke; not only to share the news, but to just be around her. "I suppose Rome can't be built in an evening."

"Or a day, or a week. But we will get there. Just...please know that I love you, and that in time, I will make my love and those words mean something good and real to you again." Her mother added, bringing her hands back to her side se she got up from her seat. "I should check on your father. And you should get back to your date...it's so wonderful to see you smiling again."

Anya took her shot, getting up and crossing the short distance to pull her mother in for a hug, breath catching as her mother's arms wrapped tightly around her. She was taller now, and the degree of comfort wasn't the same, but there was still something there, some shred of comfort to being in her mother's arms again.

Maybe one day, with enough time, effort, and patience, she'll feel soothed by them again, warmed by the affection without five years of neglect hanging over the both of their heads. That was the hope.

And tonight, as painful and emotionally exhausting as it happened to be, was a good start towards that goal.

Pulling away, it was blatantly clear that her mother was overwhelmed again, so she decided to keep it short and sweet. "If you two feel like it, you can join us in watching the movie. We won't mind." She noted softly, though she certainly didn't expect them to.

After all, she was sure to be a mess on her own. Her parents, who had done everything they could to avoid Tris' history, they'd probably be in a worse state by the end.

Her mother nodded and shot her a tearful smile before taking off towards the staircase, up to where her father was likely expressing himself safely away from the eyes and ears of everyone else. Anya supposed she'd find out about his thoughts on Christmas, most likely.

For now, Clarke awaited her, and she didn't want to spend any more time away than necessary, grabbing a tin of sugar cookies before heading off to clean up and join her date.

* * *

 

It had taken some time and effort, but eventually, Clarke was happy with the lay of the land in the rec room. The most fortunate thing was that it had a wet bar complete with ways for her to heat her homemade cider, knowing hot cocoa was better left for Christmas Day and conversations by the fire.

It turned out that the rec room wasn't a popular destination, though it wasn't dusty, at least. The couch cushions and throw pillows were a bit firmer than usual, clearly still new and basically unused, and she'd had to program the universal remote for the television and the rest of the system before she was able to get the DVD menu screen up and running, but it didn't take long.

Clarke had just fluffed up a pile of throw pillows to rest up against when the subtle clacking of heels sounded Anya's approach. She pulled at the blanket draped across to top of the sofa and stretched out her arm, waiting for Anya, waiting to see how it went.

When Anya rounded the corner into the room, freshly changed into a long black robe and her hair down in waves, she saw exhaustion clear as day across her date's face. But it was the relief and contentment that had Clarke grinning brightly, happily gesturing for Anya to get over to her.

The way Anya rushed over to her, like she was an oasis after spending hours out in the desert, had Clarke's heart swelling. That Anya kicked off her heels and smoothly nestled in under Clarke's arm, letting her drape the blanket over the both of them, well, it had her thinking they could have a good time with the rest of their night.

Clarke turned her head and pressed a kiss to Anya's temple, adoring how her date's eyes fluttered shut, lips curling into a warm smile. "How'd it go?"

"We have a long road ahead of us, but...I think they'll be there with me. At least my mother." Anya mumbled, cheek nuzzling up against Clarke's collarbone. Honestly, she'd never seen Anya appear so at ease, practically radiating happiness. "My parents like you a lot."

"Well, they have good taste." Clarke added with a smirk, adoring Anya animatedly rolling her eyes.

"Of course you'd focus on that." Anya let out with a laugh, snaking an arm behind Clarke's back, snuggling closer.

"But seriously, Anya, I'm so happy for you. You did so well today." Clarke said, tilting her head down to kiss Anya's head again. "I have some cider around if you're thirsty, and some cookies if you're hungry. You deserve to rest and have an easy night."

Anya turned her head slightly, enough to press her lips to Clarke's collarbone, stealing her breath for a moment. "If it's all the same, I'd like to just be here with you for a while."

Just knowing that she was responsible for the serene expression on Anya's face had her heart melting, knowing Raven would call her a cheeseball for feeling that way, especially for the way she wrapped Anya up in her arms. "Of course, baby. Want me to start it up?"

"Please." Anya murmured, turning her head to face the screen, temple resting against Clarke's chest.

Home Alone was Clarke's all-time favourite Christmas movie, so she didn't need to be asked twice, pressing play and settling down for a good holiday flick with a wonderful girl in her arms. "You let me know if it's too much, okay? We can always watch something else. But just...I'm here for you. If you need to cry, I'll hold you through it. There's no shame in that, movies make me cry all the time."

"Like what?" Anya asked quietly, arms tightening around her body as the movie started up.

Clarke laughed, knowing that list was particularly long, but she could think up a few easy examples. "Well, Big Hero 6 is an easy one, I cry every time with that one. Same with Moon, it always messes me up. And The Fountain...tears, early and often. Hell, O had me watch some football movie with her called Friday Night Lights and I cried at that one, too." Clarke listed off before pressing a kiss to the crown of Anya's head. "So if you feel like crying, babe, it's alright. I'm a total cry-baby with emotional movies, so you'll have your shot at returning the favor, I'm sure."

Anya let out a sigh, the warmth of her breath sending a pleasant shiver through Clarke. "Can we watch one tomorrow? At your place?"

"Yeah, for sure, I'd love to." Clarke agreed, happy to hear Anya express some excitement about tomorrow's date.

"It's just...you've been so strong for me today, and you have no idea how amazing that's felt, and..." Anya spoke, voice trailing off, Anya's cheek gently nuzzling into her chest.

When it was clear her date wasn't going to add on, she filled in the blanks. "You want to do the same for me."

"It's not that I...well..." Anya started, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You've made me feel special. And I'm not uncomfortable with the imbalance, it's our first date, and these aren't normal circumstances, but...I want to make you feel safe, too. I want you to know that I'm here to give you my strength whenever you need it, too. I want to make you feel special."

Clarke always knew Anya was a generally honorable person, but hearing the earnest desire to care for her and comfort her, that was a bit unexpected. Maybe it had her heart thrumming in her chest. Maybe it was a little fast, but she kind of liked that Anya felt so strongly for her. "Who knew you were so sweet?" She asked rhetorically, smoothing a hand through Anya's hair, adoring the happy hum that escaped the girl. "I have a good feeling. Let's see how tomorrow goes, but I think I'd really like to get a lot closer with you, Anya."

"So if I cry right now, it won't come off as pathetic? Because I'm fairly sure I'm maybe a minute away at most." Anya murmured, taking in a slow, measured breath. "This is a kid's movie, I should be laughing."

"Correction, this was your sister's favourite movie, and you're already more than five minutes deep, breaking your past records." Clarke shot back, pulling Anya tightly against her. "Don't worry about falling apart, baby. I've got you, I'm not going anywhere. You just let me know if it's ever too much, and we'll find something else to watch."

Anya nodded against her chest, letting out a faint sniffle as Buzz regaled Kevin with the tall tale about the old man salting the sidewalks. As happy as Home Alone made her, she was just as happy to spend the next hour and a half holding Anya and helping her get through yet another lost tradition.

* * *

 

There was a sense of accomplishment, perhaps even jubilation as the credits rolled, knowing that she was entirely spent, and only had leftover nostalgia and familiar comfort remaining after her grief had poured out of her until she was empty of it.

She'd cried. Hell, she'd wept, waves of unrelenting emotion flowing over her and overwhelming her throughout key scenes in the film. Anya wasn't sure that if she watched something sad that she'd have any tears left to cry. They'd all went into Clarke's neck and chest, hopefully not damaging the girl's dress too much given how damp it was.

Clarke hadn't complained at all, and honestly, that was surprising. She'd expected at least a disgruntled huff out of her date, but Clarke was relentlessly supportive, shooting soothing words and reassurances her way, rubbing her back and kissing her head, telling her to let it all out, just letting her grieve and be comforted for the first time. Even better, Clarke didn't hold back on her own emotions, routinely squealing with laughter at the hijinks in the film.

In the end, she felt so much closer to Tris, and definitely closer to Clarke than she thought she ever could be. In one day, Clarke had helped her conquer so many of the obstacles in the way of her grieving, and she felt so much lighter there, lying in the girl's arms as the DVD menu music started up.

Sure, she felt wiped, and dehydrated, and like she could probably sleep for the next ten years, but she was happy. She'd started on a  journey to reclaiming her family, she'd been able to reconnect with the traditions she and Tris had loved sharing together, and she'd gained someone new in her life, someone special.

It'd been a hell of a day, and she was happy to enjoy some simple intimacy for as long as she could.

"Babe, you look sleepy." Clarke noted aloud once she'd either muted or turned off the television, Anya's face far too buried in Clarke's neck to bear witness to whatever was happening on the screen.

"Comfy. A little tired and thirsty, but I'm good for a while yet." Anya answered, just barely stifling a yawn. Perhaps shifting away from Clarke and her lovely body heat would help her fight the pull of sleep, but that sacrifice was far too great to consider at the moment. She'd happily take the risk.

"Let me get you something to drink, then." Clarke noted, somehow managing to separate herself from Anya in no time, heading over to the wet bar.

Anya huffed, immediately feeling a bit of a chill without her date to share her warmth. She quickly tucked her legs underneath her and shifted over to where Clarke had been sitting, letting out a happy sigh at the slightly better warmth and the comfy cushion pile.

As she got comfortable again, she couldn't help but be intrigued by the delicious smells coming from Clarke's direction. "What are you making?"

"I'm heating up my cider. Haven't really had a chance to have some tonight, but I figure now's as good a time as any, and you're thirsty." Clarke called back, the ding of the microwave preceding Clarke swooping back to the couch with two steaming mugs in hand.

Anya took the one offered to her in both her hands, loving the sweet and spicy scent as she took in its aroma. "Thank you." She whispered with a smile as she turned to face her date, only to be met with a pair of intense blue eyes staring back at her. "What? What's wrong?"

"May I kiss you?" Clarke asked softly, eyes flicking between Anya's eyes and lips as her date curled up against her.

Anya felt herself awash with heat, and quickly took a long sip of Clarke's cider, letting out a delighted moan at its deliciousness. She took another long sip before placing the mug on the side-table nearby, not wanting to spill anything, more than happy Clarke had a similar thought in placing hers on the coffee table.

"Please do." Anya answered, smoothing a hand from Clarke's waist down to her hip, turning in her seat as Clarke leaned over and reclined Anya back onto the pile of pillows, leaving her looking up at Clarke, wavy blonde hair tickling her cheeks.

Her breathing was already a little labored from the memory of the last kisses she'd shared with her date, but it was stolen away entirely as Clarke's lips descended up on her in a whirlwind of desire and yearning. Every sensuous shift in pressure, every teasing touch skimming along her curves, the ever-present weight and heat of Clarke atop her, everything Anya's senses were met with was all-consuming, and it was everything she could do to desperately grasp a shred of consciousness and not just let her instincts completely take over.  The last thing she needed was to completely lose herself in her adoration and lust for Clarke.

Even so, Clarke's teeth nipping at her lower lip had her reacting, legs swinging up to lock down Clarke's hips, keeping them close even as her date's head leaned back, leaving them a breath apart. "Sorry, I think I got a little aggressive there. Kinda been a long time coming."

Anya laughed as well as she could with strained lungs and a lack of oxygen. "Please...don't apologize."

Clarke just grinned, pressing a fleeting kiss to her lips. "Cool, because I really wasn't feeling super apologetic. I just needed one last chemistry test...which you passed with flying colors by the way...before the night was over."

"Clarke, it's...what, a little after nine-thirty?" Anya asked, wondering why Clarke was focusing on the time.

"And we've both got big days ahead of us tomorrow. And you've had a really long day today, too. It's not that I want to leave soon, it's just I want you to have some energy leftover for tomorrow." Clarke countered, making some sense, even if she didn't feel it was a hundred percent relevant given how energized she was after that kiss.

"If you kiss me like that again..."

"What, and ruin all the mystery? Babe, I can have Raven and O pick me up quarter to eleven, maybe? I'm sure we could find something to do or watch in the next hour and a quarter, if that's good with you?" Clarke asked, providing the easiest answer Anya could give all night.

"I'd really like that." Anya murmured, drawing her date closer, nuzzling her nose down Clarke's. "Maybe you could put something else on? I'm not picky."

Clarke laughed and closed the distance, smiling into a brief kiss that left Anya yearning for more. "So long as you hold my seat for me." The girl noted, shooting her an utterly cheesy wink before rolling off the couch and onto her feet to rummage through one of her bags.

When Clarke emerged from her search holding up an unfamiliar box. "Doctor...Who?" She asked, feeling she'd heard the name somewhere, but couldn't place it.

"It's great, it's their Christmas Carol episode." Clarke answered, popping the disc in and quickly returning to cuddle back up beside her, mug of cider in hand.

Anya shook her head, but couldn't help but grin at Clarke's enthusiasm. "I'll trust your judgment, sugarplum." She noted with a yawn, happy she'd have another hour and a bit left with Clarke at her side.

"You'll love it, I promise!" Clarke asserted with more excitement than she could have imagined having at the moment. Still, she was more than content to let Clarke curl up against her, head resting on her shoulder as Clarke sipped away at her drink.

It'd been a really good day, and Anya was happy to end it relaxing with someone special.

* * *

 

Anya had lasted all of twenty minutes before zonking out and becoming an adorable distraction. Usually, her eyes would be glued to the screen whenever she watched the Christmas special, but this time around, it was too hard to keep her focus from shifting over to the sleeping girl beside her.

Her date looked so peaceful that she had warring urges to shower her with gentle affection, and just straight up leave her be so as not to disturb her. The latter won out each time, but just by the skin of her teeth.

At least, until ten forty rolled around, giving her five minutes or so until Raven and Octavia would arrive to pick her up.

Reluctantly, she brushed the hair from Anya’s face, deciding to gently stroke her thumb across her date’s cheek until she woke, not wanting to startle the other girl. It took a few seconds, but eventually Anya let out a sleepy groan, eyes fluttering open into a tired squint.

“Clarke?” Anya asked, swallowing back the thickness in her voice as her eyes focused. “What are you d...wait, did I fall asleep?”

Clarke shot her an amused smile, hoping it’d be enough to curb the initial regret forming on Anya’s features. “It’s okay, you were completely adorable, for what it’s worth.”

Anya let out a huff as she rearranged her robe that had partially fallen off. Which perhaps would have been distracting earlier had the girl not been wearing a camisole and sleep shorts under it. “Hardly adorable.” Anya contested, voice still thick from sleep as she sat up. “I apologize for not being awake for the last part of our date. I was just very tired, it’s not that you’re not...”

“Anya, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, you’re exhausted.” Clarke noted softly, leaning to press a brief kiss to Anya’s lips. “I’ve had a great night.”

“I have, as well.” Anya agreed, angling her head up slightly in silent request. Clarke was all too happy to pull Anya into another kiss, adoring the way her date’s sluggish limbs wrapped around her. “I suppose I should help you pack up.”

Clarke nodded, realizing she’d forgotten about all the things she’d brought. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Thankfully, clean-up didn’t take too long. Most of the cookies were already packed up, and it wasn’t have to fill the bags she’d brought with her tools and equipment along with her share of the cookies. She’d elected to leave the remaining cider as a gift, which Anya seemed happy about.

Still, soon enough, she found herself bundling up in the foyer, hearing the crunch of snow as a car drove up the driveway. “I should probably get out there before Octavia starts abusing her horn.”

“Wait...” Anya let out quickly as she turned and leaned into the closet for a moment, pulling out a scarf that reminded her of the starry texture of Anya’s dress from earlier. With a seemingly practiced finesse, Anya quickly wrapped the scarf around her neck, securing it with a loose knot. “There we are. It suits you more than me.”

Clarke lifted up some of the scarf to look it over, loving how it sparkled like the night sky; it wasn’t going to be a tremendously warm scarf, but it was wonderful, even if Clarke may have disagreed on who it suited best. “Thank you, it’s pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you.” Anya mumbled, cheeks burning a bright red. “God, that was _so_ cheesy.”

She reached for Anya’s arm just in time to keep her date from walking away in apparent embarrassment. “No way, babe. Just the right kind of cheesiness, I promise.” She countered, pulling Anya close. “The scarf actually reminds me of you. I...”

The loud sound of honking from outside cut her off, leaving her a little annoyed at the punctuality of her friends. “...I have to go, but I had a great night. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too. Thank you for everything...for making today unforgettable. It means so much to me that you were at my side for it all.” Anya noted, pressing her forehead gently against Clarke’s. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Well, you could always dream of me...” Clarke started, using a free hand to grab the doorknob and pull it open. “...but I always had a thing about kissing on the doorstep at the end of the first date.”

Anya ducked her head off to the side, letting out a small laugh. “Well, how could I deny you that, sugarplum?”

Given the green light, Clarke reached down, took hold of Anya’s hand, and led her a step or two out to the cool, winter air. Anya stuck close, barely leaving an inch or two between them; whether it was from hoping to share warmth or not wanting to be apart she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t help but adore the girl for it, anyways.

Once firmly outside, feet planted on the welcome mat, Clarke shot Anya a cheeky smile. “Goodnight, Anya. Merry Christmas.”

Anya rolled her eyes and pulled her closer by the scarf. “Merry Christmas, Clarke.” The words had no sooner left Anya’s mouth when her soft lips pressed against Clarke’s, lingering with a languid pressure as Anya’s arms wrapped around her body one last time that night. Clarke sunk into the kiss, wanting to stay where she was for much longer than she knew she’d be allowed.

It was with a heart full of yearning and another loud honk of Octavia’s car that she eventually pulled away. “My chariot awaits. Goodnight, baby.”

“Sweet dreams, Clarke.” Anya whispered against her lips, pressing one last fleeting kiss before turning and stepping back into her home, sending one last smile and wave over her shoulder before shutting the door.

 Tomorrow could not come soon enough, and with that firmly in mind, she trotted over to the car and got into the backseat, grinning despite her friend’s mocking cheers and loud complaints.

“Not a date?! The DISHONOR!”

“Griffin, are you kidding me?! She wanted the G all along!”

“The TREACHERY! I can’t believe you tricked your best friends on CHRISTMAS!”

“That was a six hundred fucking dollar kiss, I swear to god! Did you see what she was wearing?! The LEGS FOR DAYS?!”

“Insubordinate...and CHURLISH! How could you not tell us you’d be getting some mistletoe action?!”

“Raven, there wasn’t any mistletoe, but CLARKE, you MINX!”

She rolled her eyes, the duo’s ranting lasting until they’d long since pulled out of Anya’s driveway. Once there was a bit of quiet, she decided to finally pipe up. “So...you two done now, or can I talk?”

“I’m still upset. We’re totally your best buds and you couldn’t trust us with the fact that you’re over the moon for Anya Pine?” Raven asked, actually sounding a little hurt, surprisingly.

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know she didn’t hate me until we’d left home. Turns out I thought her resting bitch face was her glaring at me. I legit thought I’d just be doing her a favor tonight.” Clarke explained, earning a pair of hearty scoffs from the front seat.

“That actually makes a strange amount of sense, her face and all. She always did look a bit too relaxed to be glaring at you, but I took you at your word.” Octavia chimed in with a thoughtful hum. “So this means you’re in good terms with her now. So can she really hook me up with her cousin?”

“O, focus on the road, not that man you want to ride. Clarke may not have actually been deceitful.” Raven stated, halfway defending her, even if her tone was still a bit suspicious. “What was the favor, anyways?”

Clarke knew she couldn’t disclose everything, but she felt comfortable talking about what her friends had seen, at least. “You saw it. Coming out to her parents as gay.”

“Oh shit! So it was a fake date turned into a real date? That’s like cheesy rom-com level stuff, Clarke, I thought you weren’t into that.” Octavia called out, definitely calling her on her past preferences.

“It’s different with her.” Clarke spoke, voice soft and quiet as she recalled the night, particularly all the ways Anya looked at her, spoke to her, touched her. Especially how Anya kissed her.

Raven let out a low whistle. “That’s some Mojave desert-grade thirst I’m reading on my monitor. How about you, O?”

“Yep, that’s a hundred percent accurate. Clarke Griffin is experiencing acute thirst. Tragic.” Octavia agreed with a laugh. “So how was the underboob sweat?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “That was _one time_!” She argued, her words only making her friends laugh harder. “Okay, fine, three times! So what if I used some protection tonight?”

“Oh my god, this is the best day ever.” Octavia said firmly between laughs.

“Not as good as when I got early acceptance into MIT, but _close_.” Raven added, turning to look back at her. “And that’s a new scarf.”

Clarke shrugged, trying to ignore her fierce blush. “Christmas gift from Anya.” She answered, earning a shit-eating grin from her friend. “Don’t you dare give us crap, she convinced me to set aside a dozen cookies for you two!”

The car screeched to a halt as Octavia pulled over to the side of the road in a hurry and threw on the brakes. “You’re letting us eat your Christmas cookies?”

Raven, mouth agape, had her eyes focused purely on the bags resting in the middle of the backseat. “It’s a Christmas miracle. You never let us eat them.”

“Usually, they’re a gift for mom and dad’s works, but this year, she convinced me that you two deserved them.” Clarke explained, growing inceasingly suspicious at how lost in thought Raven was appearing.

“O...figure out where the nearest 24/7 jeweler is, Clarke needs to put a ring on it tomorrow.” Raven asserted, her words only half as concerning as how quickly Octavia pulled up the vehicle’s GPS system.

“Octavia, stop, I’m not... _look_ , she’s just coming over tomorrow for our second date, I’m not ‘putting a ring on it’ or anything.” Clarke argued, even if she felt herself blushing hard, heart beating wildly in her chest at the thought of being together with Anya like that one day. “Maybe if we make it through university together, sure, but...”

Raven let out a loud laugh and reached back, giving Clarke’s knee a little shake. “O, take us back to base, I need to hear the story of how Clarke Griffin fell into the deepest thirst.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the accusation, but the thought of going over all the disclosable moments, in detail, getting to revel in everything all over again with friends to cheer her on or tease her?

It was a great feeling. And as they traveled back to her place, she couldn’t help but wonder how a fake date could have turned out to so incredible, giving her the chance to date an amazing girl.

“Okay, so it all started last year, right before homecoming...”

**Author's Note:**

> So I planned to get a few holiday one-shots out by Christmas, and it just didn’t happen, but at least there’s this jumbo-sized one to tide you over until the rest are finished up. I sort of winged this one from start to finish, tossing in tropes and fluff as I saw fit, so if you think that it was a bit of an unstable read without any real discernible structure, you’d probably be right about that, haha  
> Happy holidays! I hope you enjoyed this one :)


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